The Lemon Bibliotheque: An Anthology of Impassioned Writings
by PhantomPanther
Summary: This is a collection of One-Shot lemons that I have written, and am happy to take requests for. Each chapter is a different pairing/ship. Let me know what you'd like to see in a review. Contains the following: SMUT HET SHOUNEN-AI YAOI YURI. Mature readers only!
1. Valley of the Queens

**Phantom:** Hello dear readers! Welcome to my latest project. I have decided against writing any new novels lengthy stories for now, as I thought it would be fun to write a series of One-Shot lemons, with not only _my_ favourite ships, but yours, too! I hereby challenge you to write your request in a review for me to write a one-shot involving your favourite Yu-Gi-Oh! ship, and I will gladly oblige (as much as I am able to!). Without further ado, here is the first one-shot.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Yu-Gi-Oh! and all its characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi.

**WARNING:** This story contains detailed sexual content (obviously…huhu) and coarse language.

**The Lemon Bibliotheque: An Anthology of Impassioned Writings**

"**Valley of the Queens"**

**A Trustshipping fic **

**(Seto Kaiba x Isis Ishtar) **

xXx

Seto Kaiba discreetly wiped the sweat from his brow, again querying his decision to come back to this God-forsaken place. Ever since he had recovered the Millennium Puzzle, he didn't envision having need to step foot back on Egyptian sands, again. However, upon receiving a VIP invitation to the revered annual gala—held by the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities every year—he could hardly refuse. Its' staff had been particularly obliging to him, after all, during his scavenger hunt for the lost artefacts, those few years ago. But perhaps that was simply due to the very generous "grant" they had received, from him. Kaiba Corporation, and therefore Kaiba himself, was now seen to be one of their most esteemed benefactors. It would have been impolite not to at least show his face.

Indeed, Kaiba had to admit, the museum had spared no expense in throwing this event, located as it was at the prestigious Hotel Alexandria. The place had been decked out in a distinctly 1930's vibe, with sprays of ostrich feathers, spills of pearls, gilt and velvet, as far as the eye could see. Still, it paled in comparison to events thrown by Kaiba Corporation in the past, but there was something that made him feel more at-ease about attending as an honoured guest, rather than as the host, under the glare of the limelight. This time he could relax, indulge in some hors d'oeuvres, take part in some obligatory schmoozing with the museum curator and his underlings for good measure, and perhaps—if he was in the mood—find himself a satisfactory piece of ass, to round the night off.

One ass, in particular.

"Champagne, sir?"

Kaiba took a flute from the silver tray, inclining his head in thanks. The waiter mirrored the gesture of obligatory politeness, before sauntering off to greet other guests. Somewhere in the background, the tinkle of a jazz pianist could be heard, pervading the atmosphere with its bouncy yet relaxing cadence.

Scanning the opulently-decorated ballroom, Kaiba made his way through the throng of party-goers, which was made up of an assortment of archaeologists, historians, academics and the like. Frankly, he hadn't much to say to them, and indeed, he wasn't all that well acquainted with any of them. The only person he marginally hoped to see here tonight had either not yet arrived, or had not been able to make it, which left a bitter taste in Seto's mouth. If he was being honest with himself, it was practically the only reason why he decided to show.

It wasn't until later on in the evening—after one too many rounds of champagne to slake the dry conversation he'd been forced to endure—that he finally spotted her.

"…new technology is simply marvelous, Kaiba. Your company has such a bright future ahead, I will be intrigued to see where you lead it…"

"I'm sorry," Kaiba spluttered, interrupting the associate he had been speaking with, mid-conversation, his icy eyes now fixated on a figure moving furtively toward the outdoor terrace. "Please, excuse me."

Kaiba departed the group of suits—nearly spilling his drink in his haste—and adroitly made to follow her. His sight honed in on its target—the woman he had very nearly lost his first duel in the Battle City finals to, all those years ago.

To this day, that duel still haunted him.

How close he had come to losing…

Had he not had that psychedelic vision—like so many others that came after it—he might well have been forced to admit defeat to her. And yet, though he had ultimately prevailed, Isis Ishtar was the only person besides Yuugi Muto to whom he had nearly met his downfall.

From behind, Isis could have been any other woman that had tumbled in and out of the revolving door of Seto Kaiba's sheets. He wasn't choosy, as long as they fit his aesthetic preferences—not taller than him, not too thin nor too thick, anywhere between the age of legal and forty-five, preferably on birth control. Ethnicity, intellect and marital status were all irrelevant. In short, Kaiba had no great desire to forge a lasting relationship with anyone.

He had never been in love, nor did he ever intend to be. It only complicated matters, and he was quite certain that he could not stand to be in the company of the same person for longer than a few hours, at any given time. Conversely—and contrary to popular belief, given the number of women who had claimed to have fallen in love with him, over the years—Kaiba didn't think any woman would be particularly thrilled to be in a relationship with him on a long-term basis, anyway. Outside of Mokuba, nothing was more important to him than his work, and that was very unlikely to change, anytime soon.

Upon seeing Isis again, however, Kaiba was alarmed to feel himself swaying in her presence, but perhaps it was just the drink, and his natural male reaction at seeing such a voluptuous beauty. The black, fully-beaded gown that hugged her figure trailed out behind her like a serpent's tail, exposing the contours of her bare back. Her jet tresses were pulled up and away from her face, held in place at the back of her head with a golden scarab beetle hair pin, in such a way as though it might fall loose at any moment, but it remained in place.

Steadying himself, Seto stepped toward her. Her gaze was held by the hypnotic lull of the Nile River as it flowed by on its course to the sea, as it had done for millennia.

"You came." she sounded surprised—as surprised as a former medium could be, anyway. "I thought you might find such an event much too dry."

"Ms. Ishtar." Kaiba smiled invitingly at her as she turned to face him, but all at once he was left winded and momentarily paralyzed.

The Egyptian woman's beauty had not faded one iota, in the years since he had last seen her. In fact—she had grown into it, having been mature beyond her years, even back then. Now, aged twenty-seven, her cerulean eyes shone like cut sapphire in the soft glow of the antique lamps, her lips painted blood red for the occasion. In the space where the Millennium Necklace would once have taken residence, was an intricate gold pendant shaped to emulate the goddess Ma'at, her wings outspread across the plane of Isis' collarbones.

"Isis," she gently corrected. "Please, there is no need for formalities tonight, Kaiba."

"In that case…" he stepped closer toward her. "You may call me Seto." He replied, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "You…are a vision."

She seemed mildly amused by that, he thought, receiving a demure smile from her, as she allowed him to kiss the back of her hand. Maybe that was a little ironic, he thought, but she had almost galled him into involuntarily submission, the moment he set eyes on her. He could barely refrain from running his hands down those beautiful curves, let alone think of the right thing to say. When it came to women, Kaiba often had to put in very little effort, given the way they threw themselves at him. It was almost too easy.

In the years that had transpired between his and Isis' last encounter, Kaiba had known many beautiful women, some more memorable than others. And yet, Isis had always remained in the shadowy recesses of his memory, as if she had somehow set the precedent for those whom he would engage in intimate affairs with, serving as a constant reminder that no one could—or ever _would_—match up to her. As far as Kaiba was concerned, he had met no other woman of equal measure.

"It is not a duel you came for, then?" a wisp of a smile passed beneath her lips.

An instinctive kneejerk reaction within Kaiba almost caused him to lash out, at that, before he caught himself in the realisation that this was quite possibly a mild form of flirting. "Not this time," he answered. "Although, I wouldn't turn it down, if that's what you're offering."

"I'm afraid you're out of luck, Seto; my dueling days are long behind me."

Kaiba tried to imagine for a moment what a life without dueling would mean for him. His mind turned up a blank. "Then what _do_ you do, these days?"

"As you know, new artefacts are being discovered all the time."

"I meant for entertainment."

She turned her head to look up at him, allowing Seto an almost bird's eye view of her perfect heart-shaped face. "That is…perhaps something I'd rather _show_ to you, than simply tell you."

Kaiba tried and failed at appearing impassive. "Shall we go somewhere a little less…dull, then?" he suggested, allowing her to take his arm.

"Yes," Isis obliged, gathering the train of her dress with one hand, and taking his arm, with the other. "Let's."

There was only one other thing in particular that Kaiba wished to see tonight, and for once it had nothing to do with duel monsters or ancient artefacts. However, he allowed her to take the lead, and before long they found themselves in a balconied suite on the top floor of the hotel.

Upon entry, Kaiba closed and locked the door discreetly behind him. Admiring her from the back, he loosened his tie a little as Isis made her way through to the outside balcony. With a flutter of her kohl-lined eyes, she beckoned him to follow. He eyed the suite calculatedly on his way through, taking into account the position of the canopied, four-poster bed, and the steps it would take to reach it, from the balcony. He guesstimated four.

Kaiba followed her back out into the balmy night. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and waterlilies invaded his senses; the sounds of the night and the lawless city of Cairo in the distance, punctuating the stillness.

There was just something _about_ this place left him feeling beguiled.

Far too many unsettling experiences had occurred here, for him to deny that there was magic in these sands.

"Tell me, Seto," Isis ululated, gazing out across her homeland. "what is it you see?"

Kaiba peered into the distance. Above the jungle of skyscrapers and neon-lit billboards, he could make out the great pyramids of Giza, together with the colossal Sphynx, glowing against the night sky as if fashioned from some kind of luminescent gold stone.

"I see only you," he husked, reaching to tuck an escaped snarl of obsidian hair back behind her ear. "What do _you_ see?"

"I see a king," she replied. "a king in need of a queen."

Unable to fight against his urges any longer, Kaiba swiftly closed the gap that kept them parted, pulling Isis against his body as she arched up toward him, equally as hungry for his mouth. They kissed fervently, clawing at skin and hair, relishing the sweetness of each other's champagne-laced lips. She pulled back, a fire in her usually calm blue eyes as she steered him back toward the bedroom. Seto needed little coaxing, sliding the balcony door shut behind them and drawing the curtains haphazardly across.

Surging with a combination of testosterone and confidence that came all too naturally to him, Seto lunged for her—intending without restraint to rip her dress from her body and make raw, frenetic love to her—but she brought him up short, slapping his hands off of her.

"Wait," she ordered. "I know this has been a long time coming, Seto, but…I want this night to be one you'll always remember." Isis gently pushed him backward into a gilt-edged chair.

"Oh, really?" he smirked. "What makes you think I won't remember it?"

"I know I'm not the _only_ woman you've locked lips with, Seto _Kaiba_." Isis resounded, with smirk indicative that _she_ was the one in charge, tonight. "And I won't be the last."

Kaiba felt slightly affronted; he was quite certain he wasn't about to forget the events that were about to unfold—even in his cocktail-clouded state of mind—and it was _he_ who took control in the bedroom, more often than not, but he decided to humour her, at least for the moment. Crossing one leg over the other, he leaned back in the chair, watching in amusement as Isis dimmed the lights and flicked on the stereo. A soulful, stirring melody reminiscent of opulent desert palaces began to play, immediately taking Kaiba to a place of flying carpets, unending sand dunes, and riches beyond his wildest imagination.

More than anything, however, was the temptress that had been conjured up before him, the way a snake charmer coaxes a serpent from a vase. For all Seto knew, she could have been a mirage, the way she began to gyrate her hips from side to side, holding his gaze in a kind of exotic hypnosis.

Swinging her body in time with the music, Isis then reached behind herself and slowly— seductively—unzipped her shimmering black gown. It fell to the floor around her ankles with a thud, almost simultaneously with Kaiba's jaw. Before him stood a divine goddess, as nude and as pure as the day she was born, but for a black and gold lingerie set covering her modesty.

Her eyes not leaving his, Isis loosened her hair, unpinning the scarab beetle clip holding it in place. Her hair uncoiled like a great black serpent, tumbling down her back and cascading over her shoulders. She then stepped out of the dress now pooled around her ankles, revealing her dainty feet, clad in metallic gold stiletto sandals. Her perfectly manicured toes were painted to match her shoes, as were her nails. Smirking slightly, she swung her body to the rhythm, suggestively accentuating every curve and crevice as she drew nearer toward him.

Kaiba ogled with round eyes Isis' swathe of mocha skin that spread from the crown of her head to the bottoms of her feet. Her teardrop shaped breasts were all but bursting over the top of her bra, complementing the generosity of her hips and thighs and slightly thicker waist than he was used to seeing—in comparison to Japanese women—and it sent fire straight to his loins.

Kaiba—now as randy as a stag in rut—went to stand as she advanced toward him in seductive grace, but she pushed him back down, straddling his lap. He enveloped her body as they kissed, doing away quickly with her bra as he squeezed and pawed at her lissome derriere. Dominating her mouth with his, Kaiba reached beneath her honeyed limbs, pushing her underwear to the side as he found her moist sex. His cock lurched eagerly against his trousers as Isis ground herself against it while he fingered her, drawing euphoric moans from her throat, and soon his.

Deciding he could take no more, Kaiba stood up with Isis hooked securely around his waist. He squandered little time in striding toward the bed, before throwing her down on it, raking off his shirt and crawling astride her. She lunged for him like a tigress bringing down her prey, seizing him in the heat of madness that was unrequited lust.

Moments of frenzied groping and kissing later, both man and woman were blissfully bare, free from both the physical restraints of their clothing and the unsaid hindrance that had sabotaged their chance to satiate the long-overdue sexual tension between them, those seven years gone before. Her body was finally free of undergarments—just the way Kaiba liked to imagine her underneath those linen robes and headscarves, during his tournament. Many a night had passed on that blimp, when he had woken to wet sheets.

Kaiba had been decidedly in two minds regarding the exotic woman, ever since she stepped foot on his blimp that night and dared to challenge him. The arrogance she possessed in "knowing" she would win in a duel against him had been mildly affronting, at the time, but ever since he had defeated her in the scathing showdown that had been his first duel of the Battle City finals, Kaiba's perception of her shifted. With Isis no longer a threat to him, he began to find her intriguing—in a bizarre, dotty sort of a way, at first, then later in the erotic.

Being a hot-blooded teenager in the throes of relentless hormones at that time, Kaiba could barely keep his hands to himself in his ardency for her. Though his desires had never come to fruition at the time, he knew he hadn't seen the last of her, and though words had never been exchanged—as there needn't've been, given the clairvoyant power of her mystical artefact—Kaiba knew as well as Isis did that their paths would cross again, someday, and this time, he wouldn't be denied.

"Oh, Seto!" Isis shrieked as he worked her eager womanhood with his fingers, whilst assaulting her nipples with his tongue and teeth. She smelt of spices and musk, smoky rose and starlit nights; it was enough to drive him completely wild. She was not just a goddess, he decided—her body was the temple, itself.

Seeing she was near climax, Kaiba shimmied down between her legs and finished the job off both with his tongue and digits. Moments later Isis was howling in ecstasy as she came strong and hard into his mouth, her engorged vulva spasming and twitching. Seto licked every last drop of her nectar, betting that she had seen a few men in her time, but sure that she hadn't ever been given an orgasm quite like _that_ before.

"Gods, Seto…how did you…learn how to…do that…" Isis panted between jagged breaths.

"You should know by now that I'm a fast learner." He grinned at her, rolling a condom onto his straining cock.

Isis mildly returned his look of smugness. "Wouldn't you like me to return the favour, first?"

"Maybe during round two." he muttered, moving to assume a position that would be comfortable for both of them. "I've waited long enough."

He hooked Isis' legs into the crook of his elbows, leaning over her and kissing her deeply as he penetrated her molten cleft. Moments later, he was on her like a dog on a bitch, pumping wildly with all the fervor and virility one would expect from a young man in his prime.

Isis' eyes rolled back as he filled her time and time again, causing her to elicit a kind of guttural grunt from a place of pleasure, deep within. Kaiba, with his weight in his elbows and forearms braced either side of her head, shuddered in deep, primal gratification as he thrusted into her with unbridled passion, thanking whatever Gods that may or may not exist, that he was able to have this moment with the woman he had lusted after for almost a decade. Seven years, and not even a typhoon could have extinguished the candle he secretly held for her.

"Ngh, _fuck_," Kaiba cussed, his balls slapping against Isis' curvaceous ass. "You're so…_ahh_…fucking _hot_,"

Isis chuckled lowly, and in a movement that took Kaiba off guard, she had flipped him over and began riding him until kingdom come. He groaned hoarsely at the sudden change of position, his cock filling up every inch of her lubricated depths. He could feel his release approaching like a looming thunderstorm, and knew if they didn't slow down, it would be over all too soon. He knew Isis wouldn't appreciate that, and in all honesty, neither would he.

"Come here," he spoke tenderly and she did so, bending over and locking lips with him as they had done before, their sweaty foreheads pressed together. She slowed her pace, rocking gently up and down, grinding her clit against him every time she made contact. Their breaths were ragged, bodies damp with sweat, minds heavy with passion and lust and, somewhere beneath it all, unspoken shame.

In a way, actually _making love_ was almost more torturous for Seto than wild, ass-banging, thigh-slapping sex. The latter was usually over with quickly, and devoid of any real intimacy. It left him feeling satisfied physically, but never emotionally, which he never supposed was such a bad thing. Emotions only ever complicated matters, after all. Tonight though—tonight, he was in the mood for something more, and he figured Isis, above all women, was deserving of it.

Flipping her like a spatula back onto her back, Kaiba dragged her trembling body to the edge of the bed so he could make love to her whilst standing, soaking up the glorious scene of her nude form against ivory sheets, splayed out in front of him. Barely able to fight against the threat of climax any longer, he began plunging into her again, at a pace not too fast and not too slow—just enough to be sheer agony for both of them.

"Oh Seto, I think you're…going to…make me come…again…" Isis rasped, snaking a hand down between her legs to touch herself.

That was the tipping point for him.

As with most heterosexual men, Kaiba found it extremely arousing watching a woman masturbate, especially during the act. He'd known from a fairly young age—in part due to his superior intellect, and one too many evenings quenching his desires with porn—that it took more than simply penetration for most women to achieve orgasm. Clitoral stimulation being key, he tried to remember to pay due care in this respect, the end result often being met with eager shrieks of ecstasy. In fact, Kaiba could not think of one time where he hadn't made a woman come in this respect. To date, his success rate was 100%.

"Oh, Gods—!" Isis writhed beneath him, her legs opening like the wings of a butterfly as Seto eagerly spurred her on. "Oh! _Yes_!" A primeval cry tore from her throat as her second orgasm of the evening rippled through the core of her being.

"Ah…ah…_oh_! Fuck! I'm coming!" Kaiba—barely hanging on by a thread—followed in haste as the dam finally split asunder, imploding and crumbling as he rode the final crescendo into a cataclysmic release. "Oh! _Ungh_!"

Kaiba caved in over top of his lover, purging the last of his seed deeply into her. The last spastic throes of euphoria left him completely immobilized, barely even able to summon the energy to kiss the resplendent woman beneath him, before dropping his head to the sheets, as he heaved for oxygen. Isis took delight in the weight of him on top of her, their bodies still tied in an intimate knot of passion as they drifted down from the high. She smiled and kissed the top of his cheekbone affectionately, before rolling him off of herself and making for the bathroom.

Kaiba was momentarily flummoxed, to say the least, pushed aside as though he was like some unwanted toy. Most women, in his experience at least, liked to cuddle and have a little mindless pillow talk, after the fact. More times than not, they were eager for something that he was not—a relationship—and this had often become problematic. One too many broken hearts later made Seto realise that sex was really only worth it if both parties involved were on the same page regarding the whole "no strings" policy. Seto had yet to catch feelings for any of his previous lovers, however he was not blind to the fact that there was a first time for everything.

Isis emerged from the bathroom some moments later, wearing an ivory silk robe. Her makeup had been retouched, and her hair had been re-pinned back to the way it was, earlier in the evening. Seto glanced at the time; it was past midnight.

"Going so soon?" he queried.

Isis smiled and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "My associates will be starting to wonder where I am," she replied airily. "I should return to the party, to say goodbye to our guests…and to thank them, for coming."

The innuendo in her voice did not go unnoticed by Seto. "I see." He mumbled in reply, wondering why he felt such a pang of disappointment in the pit of his stomach.

"Seto," Isis smiled, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Tonight was wonderful, truly," she said. "But, you should know…that you are not meant for me, nor I for you."

A jumbled combination of relief and disappointment washed over him. "As true as that may be," he said. "can we not just pretend, at least for one night, like we are?"

She gave him a half-smile. "We just did."

"And I'm not done yet," Seto quipped, seizing her face with one hand and crushing his lips against hers. When they parted, she stared back at him with wild eyes, the fire that had been there before, once again reignited. "In fact, I'm just getting warmed up."

xXx


	2. Pinky Promise

**Phantom: **This one is for naeinu/Maria ^_~

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything! Yu-Gi-Oh! and all of its characters and creations are owned by Kazuki Takahashi.

**WARNING:** This story contains detailed sexual content/smut and coarse language.

**The Lemon Bibliotheque: An Anthology of Impassioned Writings**

"**Pinky Promise"**

**(Jounouchi Katsuya x Anzu Mazaki)**

xXx

"You're all done, Nomura-chan. They'll be ready for you, now."

"_Arigtou_."

Anzu Mazaki waited until the makeup artist had departed her dressing room, before opening her eyes to take in the reflection that bounced back at her. She sighed mutedly, hardly recognizing herself in the mirror, adorned as she was with false eye lashes, sparkly silver eyeshadow and layers upon layers of thick stage makeup and concealer. Although, she wasn't _entirely_ disappointed in the outcome. After all, she was known only by her stage name, in this industry—Keiko Nomura—to protect her real identity, and so being transformed into someone she was not, was all part of the act.

_I should embrace it_, she thought, yet again trying to encourage herself—trying to convince herself what she was doing, wasn't _such_ a bad thing. _I'm not Anzu, when I'm here…I'm Keiko. _

Anzu pulled her robe around herself more securely and expelled a nervous breath, before departing for the studio. She was so hungry she felt nauseous, but, she knew the drill—no eating at least four hours prior to the shoot. Appearing as slim as possible—in order to create that ideal fantasy—was routine.

Per usual, she had no idea who she would be partnered with. This was only the third time she had partaken in such a venture, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She had hoped that it would become easier, but each time seemed to be just as bad as the last.

Ever since Anzu had moved out of her family home—in a bid for independence and freedom from the ever-watchful eyes of her parents—she had been hit with the harsh reality that came with living in the working world. Namely, that it was not _quite_ the liberal paradise she had so glossily envisioned it to be.

Sourcing her own apartment to rent had been the easy part, but her waitressing job hardly kept the roof over her head, let alone allowed her to save for her dream of moving to the United States, when she eventually—_hopefully_—landed a place at either Juilliard or Joffrey. Thankfully, her parents had agreed to continue to pay for her tuition at her current ballet academy, but, at eighteen, Anzu was already staring down the barrel of being too old to join a ballet company, by the time she had completed her studies. She tried not to think about that aspect of it—of her dream falling flat on its face, before it had even had a chance to take flight—and what she might do, otherwise.

_This is just a shortcut_, she reminded herself, _in order to get to where I need to be, faster._

The seed had been planted one day after dance practice, when she'd overheard a couple of her classmates discussing such an opportunity in hushed tones, in the changing rooms. It was easy money—they said—and _good_ money, at that. If you were in a tight spot, you could earn enough from one shoot to pay your rent for two _months_.

Despite the fact that what they were referring to—Anzu concluded—was basically glamorized prostitution, it sounded almost too good to be true. Three, maybe four shoots, and she would finally have enough money to buy that one-way ticket and kiss her life in Japan goodbye.

The downside was, that Anzu was not _that_ kind of girl.

But, the money…

How bad could it _really_ be?

Unbeknownst to her parents—and even her best friend, Yuugi—sexual intimacy was not unfounded territory, for her. She had only partaken a handful of times, mind you, and she had quickly given up on the notion that being liberal with her body would reward her anything but a bad name.

However, being a young woman living in contemporary times, Anzu often felt that far too much emphasis was placed on sex. In an ideal world, people would only ever make love with those whom they were in love with or were married to. She swiftly realized that that was simply a fantasy conjured up by her parents and teachers to ensure that she, and her peers alike, would abstain from delving into their carnal desires.

But, the real world wasn't like that.

Living in a fallen world, Anzu saw corruption everywhere. Human nature was, by its very definition, testament to that. The day Anzu stumbled away from her first shoot—numb and slightly shell-shocked—with over ¥100,000 in her pocket, she knew it was too late to turn back. Everything she thought was pure about the world was, in fact, opposite. People were sinful by nature, ruled by their carnal instincts and a yearning for something _more_ than what reality offered them. This was part of the reason why people bought tickets to ballet and opera shows, went to see movies and concerts, and immersed themselves in books and video games and Duel Monsters—all to escape the reality that humankind was forced to be a part of, if only for a couple of hours.

It was also why sex sold.

It was widely known that the adult entertainment industry in Japan was booming, whether the more conservative folk in society wanted to admit it, or not. It was also a poorly-kept secret that the Japanese population was declining, and fewer and fewer young people were marrying and starting families. The "Incel" subculture was rife among the young male population, and the female equivalent was no better off.

The concept of this baffled Anzu, being that, the few times she _had_ had sex, she had come to find it enjoyable. She had even discussed her experiences at length with Mai Kujaku, who had become a close friend to her through the years, despite their initial differences. Through her, she had come to learn that even the most unlikely among her peers apparently had active sex lives, including the likes of "Dinosaur" Ryuzaki and "Ghost" Kotsuzuka.

"Keiko-chan?"

Anzu was drawn back to the present moment by one of the shoot assistants. "Un, nani?"

"The set is ready to go. You can have a few minutes with your co-star if you like, before we get started."

"Yes…thank you."

Anzu rounded the corner from the corridor that connected the set to the dressing rooms. The moment her eyes fell upon her apparent male co-star—sitting casually reading over his script—she felt suddenly faint and almost buckled at the knees, before shrieking—

"_Jounouchi-kun_?!"

xXx

"…_Anzu-san_?!"

The blood draining from her face, she rushed over to him. "What are you _doing_ here, Jou?!"

"What am _I_ doin' here? What are _you_ doin' here!?"

They simply gazed at each other in startled mortification, faces bone-white in pure shock.

"…is there a problem, here?"

Anzu and Jou both turned to the production manager, who was obviously impatient to get the film rolling. Time was money, after all.

"I just need five minutes, Saito-san." Anzu declared, before yanking Jounouchi out of the studio and back into her dressing room.

"Is this some kind of prank?" Jounouchi queried, looking genuinely alarmed. "Because if it is, you got me, okay?! Did Honda put you up to this?"

"This _isn't_ a _prank_, Jounouchi!" Anzu hissed through grit teeth. "God, does _everything_ have to be a _joke_ to you?"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry, take it easy!"

"Seriously now, _what are you doing here_?"

Jounouchi's face began to take on a scarlet hue. Breaking eye contact with her, he uttered, "Otousan got behind on rent, again. I got scouted a couple of months ago, and…the money was so good. I couldn't turn it down."

Anzu's heart dropped into her stomach. "Oh, Jou."

He shook his head, indicating he didn't want her pity. "Look, we can talk about the how's and the why's later, okay? Let's just tell the director we can't go through with it."

"This is supposed to be the last shoot for the day. No one else is going to be able to step in, at such short notice." Anzu sighed, pressing at her temples. She could feel a tension headache coming on.

Jounouchi stacked his arms behind his head, shifting his weight onto his back foot. "Well, then…whatd'ya suggest we do?"

Anzu looked her friend—one of her _best_ friends—dead in his honeycomb eyes.

In the past years six years that she had personally known him, they had been through a _lot_, together. From life-risking escapades on blimps, to scaling the roofs of skyscrapers, escaping kidnappers and mind-controllers, to time travel and graduating high school—they had seen it _all_. Perhaps the one thing—the _only_ thing—she had not been given pause for thought about, was this.

Being among one of the only girls in a male-dominated friend group did not go unnoticed by many, especially Anzu, herself. However, Anzu had never thought about any of them in that light before—except for one, who was no longer present on this plane of existence, anymore. Her friendship with Yuugi, Honda, and Jounouchi, and to a lesser extent, Bakura, Kaiba and Otogi, was simply platonic. To even think of her best friends in that way was unfathomable; they were more like brothers.

That being said, the idea of becoming intimate with Jounouchi, in particular, didn't exactly repulse her, either.

Now aged nineteen, he was an attractive young man—in a roughed-up, boyish sort of a way—and though his mannerisms were enough to make her want to scratch her own eyeballs out, most of the time, she knew he had a generous heart. Whoever was destined to end up with Jounouchi Katsuya, one day, would have found themselves a keeper, indeed.

"So help me God, Jounouchi; I never thought I would say this, but—let's just do it!"

Jounouchi's mouth dropped open. "Say _what_? Are you _serious_?!"

"Yes! Firstly, I didn't come all the way to Saitama to leave empty-handed." Anzu huffed. "And secondly…look at what we've been through together, already. There's _nothing_ we can't do."

Jou blushed and glanced away again, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Yeah, but…this is different."

She gently took his hand. "We can do this, Jou." Her blue eyes glistened pleadingly, at him. "Let's do this one thing for each other, and then we don't ever have to speak of it, again. No one ever has to know."

At that, he relaxed his shoulders a little. "Well…only if you're one-hundred percent sure."

She beamed. "Positive!"

xXx

"Have you familiarized yourselves with the script?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, then you will be aware that the theme of this shoot is 'softcore romance'." The film director, Saito-san, reiterated. "To set the scene—you've just got home from a romantic dinner date. Think lots of caressing, foreplay, all of that. Keep the talk minimal, make it natural."

Anzu and Jounouchi glanced pointedly at each other. How on Earth they were supposed to make what they were about to do look _natural_, was going to be interesting.

"And, Jounouchi-san?"

Jou started. "Err, hai?"

"Remember—we want that money-shot." he replied casually. "Just like last time."

Jou hung his head, face flaming. "H-hai…Saito-san."

At that, Anzu tried not to erupt into peals of giggles, instead casting a furtive glance behind her at the set. It had been staged to emulate a couple's bedroom, decked out in such a way that it did appear rather inviting. One could almost be fooled into thinking it was someone's real-life bedroom—with clothes tossed over the back of a chair, shoes lined up against the wall, books placed on the bedside cabinets—if it weren't for the glaringly obvious stage lights, cameras and reflectors, set up all around it.

"You ready?"

She turned back to Jou, who looked at once both concerned, yet confident, if such a combination were even possible. "I think so." she replied. "Are you?"

"We got this!" he replied with a wink. "Don't you worry about a thing."

"Alright everybody, places please!" Saito-san called. "Lights, camera…"

Anzu took a few deep breaths, in a feeble attempt to calm herself. For obvious reasons, it had been so much easier the last time, when her co-star had been nothing but a perfect stranger. She supposed it was due to having no emotional connection, with him. The predicament she found herself in now, could not have been more different.

A variety of muddled thoughts were now churning in her mind like a roiling, belching mud-pool. For one thing, she simply could not _believe_ the odds of her co-star happening to be one of her very best friends. Just how on _Earth_ was that _possible_? Domino City had a population of nearly three million people! More to the point, though, was how they were going to handle this on an emotional level. Was she going to be able to detach? Was _he_?

She highly doubted it.

What was he going to think of her body? What if he found her repulsive and couldn't perform? What was _she_ going to think of _him_? Was he going to be good? How many people had he actually slept with, anyway!?

Anzu tried to push the mindless chatter to one side, as she assumed her place upon a cushioned stool in front of a vanity with a large, gilt-framed mirror facing her. A stage assistant came and made the final adjustments to her hair—which just brushed past her collarbones, these days—before scurrying back out of the frame.

"and…action!"

Anzu's heart thumped uncomfortably in her throat as she switched to actress mode, actively softening her features for the camera, as she started to take off her earrings. Per the script, she assumed a dreamy expression, as though she were fully in the clutches of true love, at its saccharine finest. Right on schedule, Jounouchi appeared behind her, brushing her hair to one side and leaning down, to place a kiss tenderly on the nape of her neck.

"Leave them on," he whispered, referring to her earrings.

For a moment, Anzu felt herself unravel, as a jolt of something inexplicably pleasurable made her shoulder spasm in delight. Even though it was all for show, she couldn't help but wonder how sensual Jou really was. That one fleeting gesture of affection had her suddenly questioning everything she thought she knew about him.

Smiling reticently, she stepped up from the stool and linked her arms around Jou's muscled shoulders. In doing so, she realised that she had never been _quite_ this close to him, before. It gave her pause for thought, as she realised—for perhaps the first time ever—how handsome he actually was.

Underneath all that corny bravado was a sensitive, caring soul, who—like any other man—had unbidden, fleshly desires, that answered to thousands of years of evolution. Anzu could see those desires loud and clear, in the intensity of his caramel eyes gazing down at her.

With what seemed like practiced ease, Jounouchi slid his hand behind Anzu's head, placing the other at the small of her back, and tilted his head to the right, creating the perfect angle for which to kiss her. Her eyes slid shut as prepared herself for their lips to come together, her heart beating like a butterfly inside her chest. The gesture was soft and tender, at first, but soon became more wanton as their inhibitions fell away.

Although Jou was clean-shaven, Anzu could still feel the prickles of his stubble rough against her own lips, and it stirred something deep within her. In turn, Jounouchi appeared to be equally enchanted by the soft suppleness of her own cushiony lips, eliciting a subdued groan of pleasure, as he pulled her closer.

Trembling in nervous anticipation, Anzu made to unbutton his shirt, while he reached to unzip the back of her dress, in kind. All the while, cameras rolled around them, several sets of eyes scrutinizing every move, every touch, every affectionate caress.

Before long, the couple were semi-nude, clad in only their undergarments. Anzu felt as though her entire body was glowing—and not only from embarrassment. As shameful as she felt to admit it, she was becoming seriously aroused.

Jounouchi—sensing her discomfort—gave her a reassuring smile, casting an appreciative eye down her lingerie-clad form. Obviously, the outfit she was clad in—complete with garter-belt, lace stockings and platform high heels—was not her usual, everyday getup, and certainly not what Jounouchi was used to seeing her in—but at the same time, it rewarded him with a new perspective of her that he found alluring, to say the least.

"_Super-hot_," he whispered, before leaning down to kiss her once again, lowering his hands to grasp her pert buttocks.

Anzu felt like socking him one, at that, but was astutely reminded that they were being filmed, and so to do so would have been highly inappropriate. Killing Jou would have to wait until after the fact.

Composing herself, she wrapped her arms around him again and hitched a leg up onto his hip, and then hopped up with the other. Jou levered her securely around his waist as he walked the few steps toward the bed, then gently placed her down upon it. He was being uncharacteristically gentle, Anzu thought—or perhaps this was just the way he was, when it came to intimacy. She realised she had unfairly assumed him to the atypical, rough-and-tumble bonehead type, who went at it like a bull at a gate.

To her delight, she couldn't have been more wrong.

Jounouchi Katsuya was _sensuous_!

"Oh…" Anzu moaned inadvertently as he again kissed the sensitive skin of her neck, which had become warm and clammy under his touch.

She raked her fingers through his thick flaxen hair, feeling more than ready to receive him, at this point, while he explored the mountains and valleys of her body, running his hands over her breasts and across her hips. They kissed hungrily, enlivened and impassioned by their mutual familiarity.

Jounouchi flipped over onto his back, bringing Anzu with him in a playful game of rough-and-tumble. Her face flamed as it became apparent to her that he was, indeed, very ready to take things further. A scarlet haze bloomed beneath Jou's feverish cheeks, as he brought her head back down to kiss her again. Stealthily, he did away with her bra, her breasts falling into his waiting hands like low-hanging fruit, ripe for the picking.

Anzu moaned softly as Jou took a nipple in his mouth, suckling delicately at first, and then with teeth. She ground down on his engorged cock, breathlessly finding herself aching to touch it, to touch _him_—to pleasure him the way he had her. Kissing him deeply one more time, she shuffled downward, hooking her fingers into his underwear and pulling them down from his hips. Jou's formidable member sprung upward, standing to full erectness; Anzu couldn't help but admire it—_him_—biting her bottom lip wantonly, before closing her eyes and taking it into her mouth.

"_Ngh_…" Jou groaned, arching his back into the sensation. "_Kuso_…Anzu…"

At that, Anzu glanced up and shot him the glare of death, insinuating to refrain from addressing her as such, on-set. Something of a mood-killer, perhaps, but he soon got the hint, responding with an apologetic look before she resumed the task at hand.

Before long, Jou's limbs began to tremble, labored breaths rasping desperately from his throat. Before he got too carried away, Anzu crawled back up his body, and he quickly flipped her over. Hunger clouded his eyes as he hovered over her, absorbing the sight of her entirely nude body, as if burning it into his memory. Anzu was hit with the unsettling feeling that she was about to get the ravaging of her life—and yet, she felt just as eager as Jounouchi now looked.

Slowly and deliberately, Jounouchi unclipped the garter belt from around her waist, kissing her inner thighs tenderly as he slid her stockings down her legs, one by one. Anzu quivered deliriously as he undressed her, hardly recalling a time when she had felt as alive during intimacy as she did in this very moment.

Next, Jou reached for her g-string and pulled it down around her ankles, laying her bare as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to do. Anzu couldn't help but flush, wondering what he must think of her. She needn't have worried, however, as the look in his eyes said it all, having gone from an expression of flirtatious desire to rampant, uncontainable lust.

"_Oh_! J…J…!" Anzu cried out, biting back his name that so desperately wanted to tear from her throat, as Jounouchi went down on her. He teased her lovingly and with great enthusiasm, sliding his tongue this way and that, delving in and out, before entering one finger, followed shortly by another.

"Oh, _kami_…" Anzu moaned, draping an arm over her eyes.

Jou rumbled lowly in gratification as he brought her closer and closer, her body quaking and flexing in the last moments before orgasm. Mere moments later, Anzu choked out a lusty cry as she came. Jounouchi capitalized on the moment, savouring the taste of her warm wetness, before crawling on his knees toward her. Anzu fruitlessly attempted to recover, their lips coming together amid her desperate gasps for air.

Unable to fight against his urges any longer, Jounouchi grasped her legs around his waist, wasting no time in mounting her as he slid his rigid cock into her eagerly awaiting well.

Both man and woman—closest of friends since childhood, now united as lovers—groaned in unison, as their bodies fused together in an embrace of ultimate closeness. It was as if nothing else mattered, as if no one else was there watching them, like they were back home in their own bed, making love as if it were for the thousandth time, rather than the first. It seemed as though everything around her faded into insignificance, and it was only Jounouchi Katsuya, with his beautiful butterscotch eyes, looking down at her.

Caught up in the moment as they were, reality soon came a-knocking.

"Anzu," Jou whispered hoarsely by her ear. "I can't hold on…I'm sorry…"

She closed her eyes, knowing what came next. "It's okay,"

Jounouchi reluctantly withdrew, as Anzu crawled into a position on her hands and knees. They both moaned shudderingly at the new sensation as Jou took her from behind. Working his jaw as he drove it home, Jou tried with all his might to stave off orgasm. It was a wasted effort, however; the sensation of Anzu's warm, inviting depths sliding up and down his cock was more than he could take. In those split seconds, he made a snap decision.

_To hell with the money-shot._

Withdrawing from her once again, he lay down beside her. "Come here," he said, beckoning her to lay down in front of him, facing away, in a spoon-like position.

Anzu obliged, and effortlessly raised her leg upward toward her head—her many years of dancing proving useful, in more ways than one—allowing Jounouchi unhindered access from behind. He reached around, grasping for her breasts, as he pounded into her, his balls slapping frantically against the wetness of her pussy as the floodgates finally opened.

"Oh…_oh, fuck_!" Jou cried, clutching onto her as he erupted into a spectacular orgasm.

Anzu pressed herself back against him, receiving him to the core as he came, hard and strong into her. As the final few throes of their lovemaking ended, Anzu rolled over and curled into his chest, laying her head against the hard muscle of Jou's biceps. Jou in turn wound his arms around her, kissing her tenderly as he drifted down from the euphoric high. As their breathing returning to normal, they chuckled a little bashfully at each other, momentarily forgetting the presence of the camera crew, basking in the divine afterglow of comedown.

xXx

Anzu took a deep breath—the deepest she'd taken all day—filing her lungs to bursting with chilly night air, before letting it out in a long, sweeping sigh. Any longer in that stuffy studio that reeked of sex and cigarettes, and she might have vomited—not that there was anything in her stomach, currently. It had now been over six hours, since she last ate.

"God, I'm starving." She muttered to herself, digging a snack bar out of her handbag. It would have to do, until she got home.

"That makes two of us," Jou concurred, lighting up a cigarette. "You wanna get some grub?"

"No, thanks; I've got food at home. But thanks."

"So…" Jou began, attempting to fill the inevitable awkwardness that began to grow between them, as they meandered in the general direction of the train station. "How do you think we did?"

"Well…they didn't ask us to change position, or redo anything," Anzu mused. "So, I'd say it was a win!"

"Saito-san sure seemed happy," Jounouchi recalled, given that both he and Anzu had been asked to come back for another shoot, the following week.

"I think he was a little _stunned_, actually."

Jou scuffed a stone along the pavement, as they walked, dragging on his smoke. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know…" Anzu deliberated, still munching on her energy bar. "maybe because—"

"Because it wasn't _fake_?"

She cast a sideways glance at him. "You mean…you weren't just hamming it up, back there?"

"Nope…that was all me." He grinned. "I figured you deserved better than that, y'know…"

Anzu felt her cheeks warm in appreciation. Despite his usual brash audaciousness, Jou had always been chivalrous, when it came to women. "For what it's worth…I wasn't faking, either."

There was a time of silence as they mulled over the events of the evening, a thick wad of yen burning a hole in each of their respective pockets. The fact that they had crossed that ever-fine line between friendship and intimacy—and the repercussions of such, when that line was crossed—was only just beginning to dawn on them.

"Uhm, Anzu?" Jounouchi halted suddenly, stubbing out his cigarette and shoving his hands into his pockets.

She turned back. "_Nani_?"

"I'm just gonna come right out and say it—that was probably the best damn sex, I ever had."

"…Really?"

"Yeah, really." He shrugged. "And seeing as we've only been friends, up 'til now, I'm feeling pretty conflicted about it."

Anzu could see he was being earnest; his eyes were genuinely troubled. If there was one thing about Jou, it was that he was an open book, and wore his heart on his sleeve, always.

"Come on, we're going to miss our train." She stressed, linking her arm through his and jostling him along. They walked in strained silence, before making it to their designated platform.

"I admit, the way things turned out tonight _was_ pretty weird." Anzu contemplated, after a time of gathering her thoughts. "But…we just did each other a favour, right?"

"A freakin' _intimate_ favour, if you ask me!" Jou shrieked. "What if the guys end up seeing it, one day!?"

"Then we can call them out on their porn addiction." Anzu chuckled.

Jou massaged his forehead. "How are you being so cool about this? I feel like I'm on the brink of an existential crisis, here!"

"Okay, _now_ you're being dramatic."

"I just had sex with my best friend for money—tell me that's _not_ dramatic!"

Anzu rolled her blue eyes heavenward. "Jou, listen to me. Everyone has their dirty little secrets. This just so happens to be ours. It's not such a bad secret is it, _really_…right?"

Jou pushed his hair back, blowing his cheeks out and letting out an emphatic sigh. "Nah…I guess it isn't." he mumbled. "It's more the aftermath, I'm worried about."

Their train arrived, and, after letting passengers off, they boarded and found a seat. "Maybe we should take this as a sign," Anzu thought out loud.

"A sign for what?"

"To stop doing it…" Anzu answered quietly. "It's wrong…I know it is. It makes me feel pretty defiled, actually."

"Me, too." Jou agreed. "I should probably just get a second job, or somethin'."

She swiveled to face him. "Let's promise each other, then."

"Promise what?"

"That that will be our last time…"

He gave her a cheeky grin. "Don't you mean our first?"

"You know what I mean!" she punched him playfully in the arm.

"Alright, alright," he turned serious, taking her hands in his. "Do you, Anzu Mazaki, solemnly declare to never have sex for financial gain, again?"

She guffawed at his crudeness, and the fact that this whole state of affairs had somehow morphed into a twisted exchange of vows. "I do!" she exclaimed, extending her pinky finger toward him. "And do you, Jounouchi Katsuya, also solemnly declare to never use your body for financial gain, as long as you shall live?"

Jou linked his pinky around hers. "I do!"

Laughter being the cure for almost every tight spot they had found themselves in over the years, Anzu and Jounouchi laughed off what was sure to be the most absurd situation they had found themselves in, to date. If nothing else, their unexpected lovemaking session had forged their bond with each other even closer, potentially opening the door to a new paradigm of future desire.

xXx


	3. Low Hanging Fruit

**Phantom: **Hello readers! Apologies for the length of time this one has taken. I have recently bought a house (yatta!), so all that that entails as well as moving has been nothing short of stressful and time-consuming. This chapter also turned out to be more of a short story than a chapter, per se, but I'm really happy with how it came out! So hopefully you don't mind it being a little longer than usual. Ataahua, this one is for you! ^-~

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything in relation to Yu-Gi-Oh! All of its characters and creations are owned by Kazuki Takahashi. The setting and plot, however, are my own creation.

**WARNING:** the following story contains coarse language and **explicit sexual content**, more particularly: MMF threesome, het, lemon, yaoi/slash, anal, cheating. You have been warned!

* * *

**The Lemon Bibliotheque: An Anthology of Impassioned Writings**

"**Low Hanging Fruit" **

**Ryou Bakura x Shizuka Kawai x Malik Ishtar **

**(Softshipping / Sedateshipping)**

xXx

Shizuka Bakura pushed her sweaty red hair back, sweeping it up into a haphazard bun on the top of her head. The fierce Tuscan summer never ceased to surprise her, when it came around; the months of July and August were particularly ferocious, and it was little wonder that the whole of Italy shut down for a whole month, around that time. It didn't help that the dilapidated villa that she and her husband—Ryou—had bought almost two years ago, still didn't have air conditioning. It was on the to-do list, of which seemed to grow increasingly longer by the day, but they had both known that they had had their work cut out for them, when they purchased the property on a whim.

Shizuka had always adored Italian food. Her brother, Jounouchi, would often make her his famous _diavola_ pizza, when she lived with him in Domino before she went travelling. It was only when, by complete coincidence, she bumped into Ryou Bakura—of _all_ people—when her travels took her to London at the age of twenty-one. Ryou had decided to apply for universities in his homeland of the United Kingdom, and was nearly finished with his degree at medical school, when fate brought them back together, once again.

English summers were just as romantic and fleeting as Shizuka had read about in classic literature, such as _Jane Eyre_ and _Pride and Prejudice_, with green parks full of picnicking couples, the countryside coming alive with wildflowers, and the farmers markets full to bursting with fresh, seasonal produce. Ryou had been on his university break during the height of the warm season, when they had run into one another at a festival in Hyde Park. Barely a week later, they were making love in his tiny, one-bedroom flat in Clapham, after one such picnic lunch consisting of club sandwiches, scones and a bottle or two of cheap white wine.

Before long, they were married, and Shizuka took up a job as an accounts clerk, putting down roots in her adopted city. Her English soon became as proficient as Ryou's, and two years later, they were able to afford to move into a house of their own, with Ryou working as a junior doctor at King's College Hospital.

The novelty of their happiness and new-found love began to wane, however, as the humdrum grind of daily life in the big city began to take its' toll. Ryou was barely home, often sleeping at the hospital and working back-to-back shifts, and whenever he _was_ home, he was so exhausted and ill-tempered that Shizuka felt like she could barely say or do anything around him, without an argument ensuing.

The final straw came when Shizuka threatened to leave him if things didn't change, four years into their marriage. She was now twenty-five, he twenty-seven. She loved him until the end of time, and he her, but she knew that this was no way to live. Their marriage was suffering terribly; all she wanted was to go back to that idyllic summer day in Hyde Park, and hope that they could fall in love, all over again.

In a desperate bid to save what was left of their marriage and their sanity, Shizuka impulsively booked two plane tickets to Italy. After all, they were earning good money—they just never had the time or energy to enjoy it. So, drawing on cherished memories of her time travelling through the place she deemed the most breathtaking in the world—Tuscany—Shizuka emailed Ryou's supervising consultant at the hospital and informed them that they would be away for two weeks in August, to celebrate their wedding anniversary, and to keep it secret from Ryou.

As it turned out, absconding from the big smoke of London was just the tonic they needed. Beginning their vacation in Florence, they intended to hire a car and explore the many picturesque hill towns, from there. Shizuka had been particularly fond of San Gimignano, when she had travelled the country as a doe-eyed teenager, and often dreamed of returning, one day. She was thrilled to be back, and even more elated to find that Ryou seemed to be enchanted by the sheer beauty of the countryside as well, not to mention that the whole holiday itself had been planned right under his nose. He had gotten up to go to "work" on the morning of their departure, and Shizuka was already downstairs with their suitcases packed and ready to go.

"I wish we didn't have to go back." Shizuka sighed, leaning against the balustrade of their hotel room balcony. She gazed wistfully at the green and gold countryside dotted with terracotta farmsteads and cypress trees. "It's like living in a dream, here."

Ryou joined her, sliding a hand across the back of her hips. "Then…maybe we _shouldn't_ go back."

She snorted a laugh, poking him in between the ribs. "Dreams are free; our mortgage isn't."

"I'm serious. We _could_ live here if we wanted to. We could sell the house, the car, everything we own, and start our lives over. It would be a lot cheaper to live here than _London_, anyway."

Sensing her husband was actually being serious, she stood up straight. "But, what would we do once we got here? Neither of us even speak Italian!"

"Buy a farm?" Ryou suggested with a blithe shrug. "There are more vineyards and olive groves around here than you can shake a stick at."

Early the next morning, Ryou and Shizuka went for a stroll into the town centre, and wrote down the addresses of properties that were currently for sale. As dubious as she was regarding Ryou's little pipedream, it wouldn't hurt to humour him, and see what was around. She was quite sure that once they got home to London and back into their regular routine, he'll have forgotten all about it.

But oh, how wrong she was.

They must have driven past at least a dozen old Tuscan villas that day, each one more dilapidated than the last, but there was one in particular that made an impression on them. It looked as though it hadn't been touched in a century, with overgrown vines snaking between the bars of the wrought-iron gates. The property had been for sale for so long that the sign on the gate was half hanging off, and was faded from the sun. Figuring it was probably about as deserted as it looked, Shizuka and Ryou climbed up and over the stone wall and leapt down the other side, dashing furtively up the tree-lined driveway, toward the manor.

The villa itself looked as though it had seen better days, with its pale pink plaster cladding and masonry falling off in places, and most of the windows had been boarded up. Shizuka had no doubt that it had been a beauty in its heyday, however, and images conjuring up how it might have once looked began to form in her mind.

"Shall we go inside?" Ryou queried, coaxing his wife by the hand.

"What if people are squatting in there?"

"Then we'll run like mad."

To their relief, they discovered that the villa was indeed deserted; the stately front doors had even been left unlocked. Inside, the house had a slightly eerie feel to it, given the way that the furniture left behind had had sheets draped over it, and dust an inch thick caked every surface. It was also very dark, since the windows had been boarded over. Guessing the electricity and water had been shut off long ago, it was no surprise to learn that the light switches didn't work, nor did the taps. Despite that, the manor had been constructed with high-quality materials and fittings—including a grand, polished-oak staircase—and Shizuka quietly wondered how it might look, given a little TLC. It seemed such a shame to let it go to wreck and ruin, when it had so much potential.

"Oh Ry, look!"

The maze of hallways had finally lead them to the outdoor terrace, which afforded a stunning view of the valleys and hillsides of Tuscany. For as far as the eye could see in every direction were sprawling green meadows, rolling hillsides punctuated with cypress trees and other small hill towns far off in the distance, their terracotta bell-towers shining like proud statues in the late evening sun.

More immediately, almost starting right at the doorstep of the villa, were fields of overgrown grapevines, as well as olive, apricot and fig trees—almost bending under their own weight with ripening fruit.

"Well, bugger me," Ryou uttered in wonderment. "Would you look at that?"

Shizuka squealed in excitement and ran down into the garden, her long auburn tresses sailing behind her like ribbons on the breeze. She reached up to pick a juicy apricot, sinking her teeth into the delicious sweet flesh. The juice exploded in her mouth in such a way as to make her to weak at the knees. Never before had she tasted anything so exquisite in her life.

Some twenty minutes later, Ryou and Shizuka were sat leaning against the apricot tree, groaning from gorging themselves to bursting on the delectable fruit.

"Ryou," Shizuka moaned, rubbing her belly tenderly. "I think we need to buy this place."

And so began their eighteen-month-long journey to becoming proprietors of a tumble-down Italian villa, much to the sheer stupefaction of their friends and peers, back in both London and Domino. The estate agent was, of course, delighted at the prospect of finally having a serious buyer, as the property had been on the market for over five years. Funnily enough, Shizuka realised it had gone up for sale around about the same time that she had last visited. They later came to learn that the previous landowner had been a widower, and his adult children had long since moved away, with no inclination to carry on the family business, or restore the villa to its former glory.

It was a painstaking process. Not only in acquiring the property, but selling their own home and most of their possessions, spending every spare waking moment learning Italian and studying viticulture and, eventually—_finally_—mustering up the courage to quit their jobs. It had been no easy feat, and at times they both wondered if they'd gone mad.

Little did they know, the hard work had only just begun.

* * *

"Ryou, one of us is going to have to get a job. There's still a lot to do before we can start trading as a business, and even then, we will be operating at a loss." Shizuka worried, once again running over their spreadsheet as they lay in bed one evening. "In a couple of months we'll be ready to harvest; we're going to need some workers. We can't do all this on our own…"

The move to Italy had been fairly seamless, as far as intercontinental migrations went. They had sold their London property with enough left over to purchase the villa outright, but now they were living on savings only. It was the first time since they were students that either of them had been unemployed, and Shizuka often wrestled with herself mentally as to whether they had done the right thing, or had lost their minds entirely.

The estate agent had informed them that the manor and its past inhabitants had been one of the region's finest producers of wine, olive oil and apricot and fig preserves, going back many generations. He also mentioned that, once they were in possession of the keys, anything they found on the estate belonged to them. To their unexpected delight, this had included a cellar full of vintage wines, which were guaranteed to fetch a fine price.

Along with the cellar and all the equipment needed to produce wine, there was an olive press and bottling machine. The preserves had all been made by hand by the estate's last _mama_. Shizuka figured she could just as easily sell the fruit picked fresh off the tree as she would preserving them, so that could serve as a side-business. Their main source of income was to be wine and olive oil, but the first order of the day was overhauling the villa itself, so it was at least restored to a livable condition.

"I'll find a job then, darling, if it makes you feel better." Ryou assured, kissing her on her temple. "And we can advertise for seasonal workers as soon as we're ready. Don't you worry about a thing."

* * *

"_Kami_, I don't think I can take another day of this," Shizuka griped to herself, climbing down off the step-ladder and arching her back. She wiped the sweat from her brow, squinting into the distance to see the other workers packing up for the evening.

It had been another relentlessly scorching day, although it was now September, and autumn was upon them. The apricots and figs had waxed and waned, and, as Shizuka predicted, had sold especially well at the town market in their natural state. She had even made a few apricot pies to feed to the workers, to show her appreciation for their help.

The Tuscan hills had taken on the golden hue of late summer, the sunsets so breathtaking it started her to tears on more than one occasion. With so many long days out working in the orchards, groves and vineyards, Shizuka too had turned as brown as a nut, blonde highlights from the sun streaking her otherwise ginger curls. Ryou, on the contrary, wasn't so fortunate when it came to sun-tanning, but luckily for him, he had landed a job at the local hospital.

Shizuka was both relieved and dismayed that he had found work so quickly. The town was clearly in need of more doctors—whether they were fluent in Italian, or not—and they now had a steady stream of income to rely on, which was more than she could say for herself. However, Ryou's regular absence from the manor meant that Shizuka was now the head project manager of the farmstead, as well as the refurbishment of the villa itself. It was somewhat unsettling to be surrounded by—for the most part—strapping young men of various different ethnicities and backgrounds, all day every day, although a few of them had wives or girlfriends who worked alongside them, travelling to wherever the work would take them.

"_Ciao_, _Signora_! See you tomorrow!"

"_Ciao_, Paolo! _Grazie_!" Shizuka waved the last of the workers off the property for the evening, leaving the gates open for Ryou to come in, later.

Shizuka's bones ached; from sun-up to sun-down, she had been out working the fields for the past three months, often without taking any days off. Being an office worker for the most part of her life certainly had its challenges, but not of the physical kind. All she wanted to do was pour herself a glass of iced _limoncello_ and put her feet up, so she did exactly that.

Moving through to the main living area from the kitchen—drink in hand—she happily sunk down into what had become her favourite armchair, of late. She closed her eyes, held the cold glass to her forehead, and then nursed it in contentment.

The lower storey of the property was the coolest, and she and Ryou had often taken to sleeping downstairs, sometimes separately. She promised herself that, once the proceeds from their first wine and oil sales had come through, the first thing she would do with the money was have air conditioning installed. There was simply no way that she could entertain guests or tourists in such stifling heat.

It wasn't the heat that bothered her so much, however. Being married to a doctor, she had become used to sleeping by herself, over the years. She barely woke anymore, if at all, when Ryou came in at all hours of the night. It was due in part to this that their sex life had begun to suffer. The same had occurred when they'd lived in London, although perhaps to a worse degree. They'd gone nearly six months without making love when Shizuka had impulsively booked their holiday to Italy, in a desperate bid to resuscitate their intimacy.

It had worked—thank the heavens—as they had made raw and uninhibited love to each other every single night—some nights more than once, while they were away. To have found each other again when their marriage was at crisis point had been a relief to both of them.

But now, it was back.

A niggle she couldn't ignore, a paranoid itch that she could not scratch.

It wasn't because he didn't love her. She knew that he did.

Exhaustion, coupled with the general frustrations and pressures of daily life—commuting, paying bills, buying groceries, housework—were about the biggest mood-killers out there. Ryou and Shizuka had embarked upon this journey to try and get away from all that, though, to conquer the tedium of it all. The prospect of moving to the Italian countryside had sounded like such an inviting change from their circumstances at the time, it was hard to imagine that those problems would follow them. But, of course, that was idealistic thinking, and perhaps a touch naïve.

Shizuka was startled by a bang coming from outside, drawing her out of her inner lamentations. She frowned, set down her drink, and went to check the front door. A blustery wind had blown up, causing the window shutters on the top floor to clap loudly against the side of the house. Sighing in relief that it was nothing more sinister, she went upstairs, pulled the shutters closed and went to bed. It would be some hours yet, before Ryou got home.

Shizuka was on the hazy precipice of sleep, when she was once again disturbed by an unnatural sound. Thinking it was just Ryou coming in and rattling around downstairs, she ignored it, until it became more insistent and annoying, and Ryou still hadn't come up. Huffing in annoyance—and a little consternation—she went downstairs to find out what the racket was, ready to give Ryou a piece of her mind.

Nobody was downstairs, however. The racket was coming from outside, again.

"Those damn shutters…" Shizuka grumbled, opening the front door to check that it was, indeed, just the window shutters having come loose, again.

Instead, she got the surprise of her life, when she came face-to-face with a man on her doorstep. She yelped in fright, staggering backward and clutching at her nightgown.

"I'm sorry to trouble you at such a time; I know it's late." the man, whose face was cast in shadow, said in perfect English.

Something about that voice triggered a reaction of recognition within Shizuka, and her suspicions were confirmed—in a queer mixture of dread, perplexity and curiosity—as he stepped fully into the light.

"_Malik_ _Ishtar_?"

* * *

Shizuka had found herself involved in some very odd and bewildering situations, over the years, particularly in her adolescence.

Becoming acquainted with the a devious Egyptian teenager who went by the name of Malik Ishtar, together with his clan of "Rare Hunters", had been one of those times.

Though he had supposedly reformed since those days, Shizuka wasn't sure she would ever be able to forgive him for brainwashing her brother and turning him against his friends, not to mention the others he had incapacitated along the way—Ryou being one of them—and the fact that he was essentially prepared to take Yuugi's life, if it meant obtaining the three Duel Monster God cards.

However.

After Malik had seen the light and he and his family returned to Egypt, he and Ryou had remained in close contact, and Shizuka was under no illusions as to why.

After the end of Battle City, Ryou and Malik had had a fling.

It wasn't something that Shizuka broached with Ryou often—if at all—but she had known from the outset that Ryou was sexually fluid, and so, apparently, was Malik. Although their dalliance of the intimate kind had occurred some ten years ago, now, Ryou and Malik had remained in touch on social media, but Shizuka thought it highly unlikely that they would ever see him in the flesh, again, given the vast geographical distance between them. So, to be greeting him on the doorstep of their new Italian residence in the middle of the night, was the absolute last thing she could have expected.

"Hello, Shizuka."

She eyeballed him, aghast. "What in Kami's name brings _you_ here?!"

"It's a bit of a long story," Malik chuckled. Shizuka noticed he had a duffle bag slung over his back. "Is Ryou here?"

"He's at work." She replied crisply.

"Do you mind if I wait for him?"

Shizuka opened the door wider, allowing him to come inside.

"Thanks. I'm sorry for calling so late." Malik apologised again, before ascending the steps and coming inside. "There weren't any hotels in the village open at this hour."

Shizuka lead him through to the kitchen and busied herself by pouring each of them a drink. Truthfully, Shizuka felt more than just a little put-out by Malik's unexpected arrival. He was probably the last person on Earth she had anything in common with, and the fact that he happened to share an intimate history with her husband made her feel even more ill-at-ease. However, she was not the type to turn someone away in the middle of the night—especially someone she knew—even if she had her reservations about them. Clearly, Malik had gone to a great deal of trouble trying to track them down, and the fact that he couldn't wait 'til morning may have suggested some kind of crisis.

"It's a beautiful old place you've got here," Malik admired, glancing up at the ancient wooden beams on the ceiling. "Ryou sent me some photos, but it's even more impressive in real life."

"He never mentioned you were coming to visit." Shizuka replied, a little acridly.

"Oh, he doesn't know." Malik grinned, taking a gulp of his iced tea. "I thought I would surprise him. We haven't seen each other in over five years."

A surprise indeed, Shizuka thought bitterly. Their marriage was already skating on thin ice; the last thing she really needed right now was one of her husband's past lovers prancing into the fray. His unannounced presence might be the final nail in the coffin. Shizuka had a fleeting vision of becoming a lonely old divorcee in this manor, wearing only black until the day she died, and shuddered with foreboding.

"Don't tell me you came _all_ the way to Italy, just to see him?" she hedged.

"Not exactly. Isis had to go to Rome on business, to meet with the curator at the National Etruscan Museum, so I decided to go with her." Malik explained. "I thought it would be a good opportunity to see you guys, and…I've always wanted to see Italy." He added wistfully.

How convenient, Shizuka almost spat, but held her tongue. She knew Malik was no fool; indeed, he was charisma personified, and not just down to his surreal looks. He could pull the wool over anyone's eyes, and make them believe they were a sheep. Shizuka may have only been a googly-eyed thirteen year old when she had first been acquainted with him, but she had wised up a great deal, since then.

"Well, he was meant to be home an hour ago," Shizuka spluttered, glancing at the time on the grandfather clock. It was almost 1am. "He's probably had to stay on to do an extra shift. You can have one of the guest bedrooms."

* * *

Shizuka woke the following morning, to the sound of laughter. When she got to the kitchen, she noticed Ryou and Malik laughing and catching up over coffee. She vaguely wondered what time her husband had come home; she couldn't even remember hearing him come to bed.

"Kiki, darling, look who the wind blew in!" Ryou said delightedly, calling Shizuka by her pet name.

"I know." She smiled grimly. "He arrived last night."

"I'm afraid I've got to go back to work again, soon." Ryou mentioned, glancing at his watch. "I'll see if I can get a few days off, while you're here, Malik. How long are you planning on staying for?"

"Well, that's what I was hoping to talk to you both about." Malik hedged, a little sheepishly. "You see, I'm kind of…out of work, at the moment."

Shizuka blanched, fearing the innuendo in that statement. To the best of her knowledge, Malik had always been something of an 'entrepreneur'. His employment history had consisted mainly of working at casinos as a dealer, but he had also dabbled in wheeling and dealing motorcycles, bartending, modeling, and, at one point, strip-teasing. The latter hardly surprised Shizuka; if anyone could flaunt their body for money, Malik Ishtar certainly could.

As quickly as the blood drained from Shizuka's face, Ryou's smile, too, faded. "Oh, dear. What happened to the job that you had lined up, on the cruise ship?"

"It fell through," Malik shrugged nonchalantly. "It's okay, though. I understand if you don't have any work for me, here. Although…" he glanced up at the ceilings. "This place could probably do with a lick of paint, don't you think?"

"We have tradesmen renovating the house, at the moment." Shizuka informed him.

"You could do with an extra pair of hands in the olive grove though, couldn't you, darling?" Ryou enquired, lending her a hopeful look.

Shizuka mentally chastised her husband for dropping her in it. "I suppose so."

Malik's eyes lit up. "Really?"

She nodded stiffly. "If you want to help with the harvesting and bottling, then that should give you at least six weeks' work." She replied, thinking that it might not be such a bad thing. "More, if you want to help in the vineyards, too."

"Well, then, it's settled." Ryou smiled at his longtime friend and ex-lover. "We could certainly do with the help."

"The work will dry up when the harvest is over, though." Shizuka reminded them both. "All of the workers will be gone by December, and then we close until spring."

Malik nodded, taking the hint. "That's more than I could ask for. Thank you so much, both of you."

"A friend in need is a friend indeed!" Ryou chuckled ebulliently . "But now, I really must get back to the hospital. I'll be home for dinner; see you both tonight." Pecking Shizuka briskly on the cheek, the snowy-haired man grabbed his car keys and departed.

Momentary silence filled the kitchen, as the sound of Ryou's car reversing out the driveway became fainter and fainter, before fading altogether. Shizuka stared at Malik, wondering how best to handle this latest development. Malik didn't exactly have the most squeaky-clean track record—that she knew _all_ too well—but as long as he was residing on her property and was working under her authority, it was unlikely that that he would attempt any shady business.

"Let me make a few things clear, before we get started." Shizuka noted, a little sharply. "As an employee, you will help to pick the olives and grapes, as well as do odd jobs around the property as I see fit. In return, I will pay you a wage in line with market value for seasonal orchard work, and you will get to live and eat here free of charge, until the twenty-fourth of December, or by mutual agreement, by which time your employment will be terminated. Do you understand?"

Malik smiled wryly at her. "Do I have to sign my name in blood, too?"

Shizuka flushed. "Would that be a problem?" she smarted.

He gave her one of his devious grins. "Your wish is my command, _signora_."

"Call me Shizuka." She insisted with a roll of her eyes, steeling herself against his slightly off-the-wall eccentricities. "When you're ready, we'll make a start."

* * *

Shizuka had donned a yellow sundress and tied a patterned handkerchief in her hair, ready for another grueling day of work. She gave Malik a quick tour of the house and grounds in the daylight, showing him where everything was, before they each grabbed a rake and made their way down into the olive grove. The Tuscan sun was already bearing down on them, barely a couple of hours after dawn.

"It gets too hot by lunchtime to keep working, until later in the day." Shizuka informed him. "We usually stop at one o'clock and pick up again at three or four, until six."

"You seem to forget where I come from." Malik replied with a more genuine smile, this time.

She blushed. Indeed, there weren't many places in the world hotter than Egypt. "Well then, I may just make you work all day."

* * *

Malik and Shizuka, together with the other farmhands, worked ten days straight, managing to harvest almost all the olive trees on the property. On the eleventh day, Ryou was able to take a few days off work, and the three of them took some time out to explore nearby villages and sample the local delicacies. One such delicacy happened to be truffles, which were known to be found in the area.

It didn't take much convincing for Shizuka and Ryou to agree that they could do with buying a truffle hog. Black truffles in particular fetched a high price and were a sought-after ingredient in most blue-chip restaurants around the world. Owning a truffle hog or two could be the answer to their current financial woes.

"What shall we call them?" Ryou queried, unloading the large hog and sow from the trailer.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Shizuka suggested.

They stared thoughtfully at the pigs as they acquainted themselves with their new sty, that had been haphazardly set up next to the old barn.

"What about Charles and Camilla?" said Ryou.

"Kim and Kanye?" was Malik's input.

Shizuka smiled wryly at the two pigs, who were now happily rolling in the mud. "They shall be named 'Harry' and 'Meghan'."

* * *

The following weeks passed by in a warm, summery haze, as Shizuka busied herself milling olives, bottling oil, and pressing grapes into wine. Every spare day Ryou got off from the hospital, she allowed Malik the day off also, so they could spend time together, catching up and seeing more of the sights of northern Italy. More often than not, Malik asked if she would like to go with them, but she declined, knowing how much work was still to be done.

Truthfully, Shizuka was aching for a moment alone with Ryou; she would be glad when Malik was gone, but at the same time, he had been providing her with some welcome company during the long working days. Being that he was one of the few workers who spoke fluent English—and near-perfect Japanese—she could at least converse with him without any problems, but he also proved himself to be a hard worker with a sense of humour, to boot. He reminded her of her brother in that way—slightly goofy and unapologetic, definitely charismatic, and unafraid to speak his mind.

Additionally, Shizuka never thought she would use the term 'tenderhearted' to describe Malik Ishtar, but he had shown that he was so—offering to carry anything he deemed too heavy for her, helping her down from ladders and footstools, holding doors open for her, and ensuring she took necessary breaks and stayed sufficiently hydrated.

Still, her intimate life with Ryou was at an all-time-low, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it. They desperately needed to take another break away together, but that would mean leaving the farm unattended and the workers unsupervised, which was, simply put, out of the question. Try as she might not to think about how long it would be before she and Ryou got some quality time alone together, it often preyed on her mind, and was causing her to become all-the-more prickly.

It was Sunday evening. Ryou was at the hospital again, and Malik and Shizuka had been doing some odd jobs around the villa. Sunday, being a day of rest, meant that no workers had been at the farmstead the entire day. Shizuka was feeling decidedly refreshed after having a lie-in, cooking herself and Malik a lavish breakfast, and having most of the day off from hard labour.

"Let's take Harry and Meghan out truffling." She decided, setting her hands on her hips and surveying the greying sky. "It's time they started earning their keep, around here."

A short time later, Malik and Shizuka found themselves strolling through a forested area at the boundary of the property, with two grunting pigs on leashes leading the way in front of them.

"Of all the jobs I've had in my life, I didn't think I'd ever be taking a _pig_ for a _walk_." Malik dryly observed, causing Shizuka to give a rich belly laugh.

"That's another string you can add to your voluminous bow, then." she replied, taking the Harry's leash off and giving him free range to root around in the undergrowth.

Malik did the same with Meghan. "I know you probably think I'm a bit of a loser, Shizuka." He said, somewhat out of nowhere. "Given what I did back in Japan, all those years ago."

"Oh, do you mean brainwashing my brother and trying to drown Yuugi, but then ending up drowning my brother instead?" she retorted.

He winced. "Yeah…that."

"Or perhaps you are referring to the affair you had with my husband?" she tilted her head slightly.

He sighed and smiled at her in defeat. "What can I say? I'm an asshole."

"At least you can admit it." she snorted derisively.

"You know, you've been on the defense with me since the moment I arrived, here. Haven't I proven myself, over the past few weeks? Aren't you _ever_ going to ease up on me?"

"How _could_ I? You're nothing but a deceitful alley cat, Malik! Your past is more checkered than a chess board!" Shizuka exploded, all of her honest thoughts and feelings surging to the top. "Nobody deserved the hell that you put us through, when we were younger. God, it's a miracle we all came out of it _alive_! You should've been _arrested_ for what you did!"

"You're right." He admitted. "And nothing I say or do now can compensate, for that. I've learnt my lesson, Shizuka; I'll always atone for it. I've lost all my friends; my brother and sister have even lost respect for me. I really haven't got _anyone_, anymore."

"Well what did you _expect_ was going to happen?!"

"I was a _kid_! I was _fifteen_ years old; I had no idea what I was even doing, let alone the kind of power I was messing with." Malik railed. "Not that I'm making excuses. What I did was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Shizuka felt as though her face must be purple with anger. "What about Ryou, then? Clearly you used _him_ in more ways than one, too."

"Ryou knew exactly what he was doing; I never coerced him into anything." Malik replied, levelling her gaze. "Anyway…what happened in the past, is in the past…it was a long time ago."

"It doesn't change what happened."

He stared at her, scrutinizing her for what felt like an eternity. "Aren't you _happy_ with him?" he finally asked. "Because it sure doesn't _seem_ like it."

"I might be happier when you're _gone_!" she retorted.

"Look, Shizuka, I didn't come here to try and drive a wedge between you two!" Malik shouted back. "God knows, he loves you. That's why he _married_ you!"

At that, her lower lip trembled, and all at once, tears unexpectedly prickled under her eyelids. "I love Ryou, Malik, more than anything… We came here to try and fix the problems that we had, but…I feel as though they're just getting worse."

Malik's shoulders slumped. "I suppose me being here isn't helping."

"No, it's not you." she waved her hand dismissively. "To be honest…most of the time, you actually make me…" she paused. "_happy_."

Malik took a tentative step toward her, his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of surprise and relief. "You make _me_ happy, too."

Shizuka put her face in her hands and let the tears roll forth, weeping out her anguish in furious sobs. Malik wound his arms around her, allowing her to cry against his chest. He soothed her, rubbing her back and stroking her hair. The torrent finally ran its course, alleviating some of the pent-up frustration Shizuka had felt in the past few months. She wiped her eyes, startled to feel something splat onto her shoulder, as a cool, gusty wind began to pick up.

"We should head back." Malik advised, turning his head to the sky. "I think the weather is turning."

The first day of rain in over two months came with swift and startling violence. Malik, Shizuka and the pigs hustled blindly back through the forest to the house, dodging puddles as rumbles of thunder chased them from above. By the time they made it back to the barn, they were saturated from the deluge.

Quickly ensuring that Harry and Meghan were safely ensconced back in their pig pen, Shizuka ran back to the barn and wrung out her hair and the skirt of her dress. Malik had taken off his singlet, wringing it out, too. Still panting from their impromptu sprint, Shizuka collapsed onto a pile of dry hay, watching as sheets of water drove down outside the barn doors.

"That was _wild_!" Malik joined her, also huffing from the exertion. "It never rains like _this_ in Egypt."

Shizuka lay down and closed her eyes; eventually her heartbeat calmed and her breathing settled. When she opened them, Malik was hovering over her. She froze, startled, as he reached up to wipe away a lock of wet hair glued to her forehead. He touched her face, ran his thumb down her lips, as if he knew exactly the kind of attention she had so desperately been yearning for. He trailed her jawbone, her neck, and then her collarbone.

"Don't you realise how beautiful you are?"

She flushed, turning away. "Malik…don't."

He clasped her chin, pulling her back. "It's the truth."

She stared at him.

He kissed her.

Shizuka momentarily flailed, but her reptilian brain won the battle and she gave in to her desires, her biological urges overriding any sense that might have once been present in her cloudy mind. She pushed back weakly against his chest in objection, but he only drove down harder, pressing her into the hay as he levered his weight on top of her. He had her pinned, but rather than resisting, she found herself yielding to him, the way a sunflower opens toward the sun.

It was a cluster of thoughtless moments, wrought with urgency, lust, and needs that had gone untended to, for too long.

She moaned as Malik slid his hand up her damp thighs, prying open her legs and raking off her underwear with one hand. Before she knew it she was peeling off her saturated sundress—Malik hurriedly unbuckling his pants—and they were making love, furiously thrusting and bucking, clawing, kissing and sucking, their ecstatic moans drowned out by the driving rain and thunder beyond.

"_Ngh, Gods_," Malik panted hoarsely, reaching back to look down at her. "that's a beautiful sight." He commented, watching his hard penis drawing in and out of her eagerly wet vagina.

Shizuka squirmed impatiently beneath him, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he teased her. "Just _fuck_ me, already! I'm so close…!"

Malik grinned deviously at her. "Oh you are, are you?" He carefully withdrew from her, causing her expression to change from one of pure bliss to disappointed confusion. "Turn around."

She complied, letting out a low, almost guttural groan as Malik eased himself into her from behind. Moments later she was shrieking unabatedly in raw, passionate ecstasy as he slapped against her, thrust after delectable thrust, filling her depths time and time again. Taking her pleasure to even further heights, Malik reached around with one hand and began massaging her clitoris.

"Oh, _God!_" she howled, and seconds later, she buckled, a hollow gasp stretching her vocal cords as her body shook with orgasm. "Ngh! Malik…_ugh!_ _Fuck_…_oh_…"

At the pinnacle of her pleasure, Malik too let go, gathering momentum before the grand finale. "Oh Gods, I'm coming…I'm coming!" He groaned gaspingly, caving in over top of her, his loins quivering as he purged his seed into her body.

Sated, they wilted against the hay, breathless and quivering as they drifted down from their impromptu moment of reckless abandon. Steam rose from their damp bodies as they fought to get their breaths back, willing their heartbeats to slow.

Shizuka watched her breath clouding up above her, the scratchy hay beneath prickling her backside. In her absent state of mind she vaguely thought she should do something about the barn roof; it was leaking in several places, which wasn't ideal if she planned to house more animals inside it, at some point.

"Kiki?"

"Hn?" Shizuka jolted back to awareness.

Malik smiled at her. "Are you alright?"

She sat up, then, the gravity of what they had just done hitting her like a sack of wheat. "That shouldn't have happened." She whispered in a panic, reaching for her dress and shoving it on over her head. "And don't call me that."

"We just made _love_," Malik admonished. "and I can't call you by your nickname?"

"Only Ryou calls me that." She said curtly, but just as quickly, her face crumpled. "Oh my God…what have I done…"

"He's taking you for granted, Shizuka." Malik observed, reaching for his sodden singlet and pants, and standing up. "I would know; he did the same to me."

Shizuka shot him a sharp glare. "The difference being that I _married_ him, Malik! Don't you think I know what he's like?"

"And are you happy?"

The question hit Shizuka right where it hurt the most. "Not right now, no." she admitted sadly. "But things were a lot worse, in London. I know it will get better; that's the whole point of coming here…to save our marriage. And now look what I've done."

Malik reached out to her as she swayed in shock, gently pressing her against him. He planted a long, tender kiss on the crown of her head as she sobbed, muttering how she couldn't believe what she'd done. "Let's go inside," he said. "before we catch cold."

* * *

Aside from the initial feeling of absolute crushing guilt that had plagued Shizuka's conscience since that rainy day in the barn, life on the manor carried on as normal. The olives continued to be milled, the wine siphoned into barrels, the pigs were walked every other day, and improvements around the house were slowly coming to fruition. Everything was as it had been before—except for one major, glaring difference.

Malik and Shizuka fought against themselves every day, barely able to think straight, let alone be in each other's company, without keeping their hands off each other.

Despite the guilt—which, almost two months later, was now more of a gnawing ache than a splitting agony—Shizuka had more or less come to terms with the fact that she had transformed into a depraved harlot, a sullied woman who had defiled her marriage and set fire to her vows.

The devil was ever-near, whispering white lies to her in the form of what her husband didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. And every moment that Ryou was absent from the villa, Shizuka's mind was filled with erotic thoughts of Malik's hard, bronzed body riding against her own, taking her with reckless wantonness, and she couldn't get enough of it.

Every spare moment they got alone they would quench their rampant and relentless desires, and every day past they became more brazen. Fleeting moments of passion were stolen behind wine barrels, on the grass between the grape vines, up in the attic—even inside the kitchen pantry. But Shizuka's favourite place to take part in her clandestine trysts with the handsome Egyptian man was in the sunflower field on the neighbouring property. Several times, while walking Harry and Meghan, Shizuka and Malik had jumped the ramshackle fence and made love on the ground among the swaying sunflowers, where no prying eyes could see them for miles around.

Shizuka found that the possibility of being caught out by one of the other farmhands—or her neighbours—made her even more horny, however. One particularly bold occasion had seen Malik and Shizuka fucking in broad daylight against an apricot tree, the other workers barely some fifty yards away.

It was a Saturday evening in early December, over two months into their affair.

The farmstead was winding down for the winter; all the hard labour was done. The only workers left at the manor now were the tradesmen, and Malik. The other migrant workers had gone on to wherever the next place was that could offer them work. Shizuka was a little despondent about them leaving, as it meant she very likely had a long, lonely winter ahead of her.

If Shizuka thought that the heat of summer had been bad, the cold was perhaps worse. It was too early for snow yet, but the temperature had already dropped to near freezing. Attempting to heat such an enormous, draughty house was futile, so she spent most of her time in the kitchen and dining room, with the fireplace going day and night. Malik, by association, spent most of his time there, too. Many a night they had whiled away the hours talking, drinking wine and having sex by the fire, and tonight was no different. Still, in the back of their minds, they knew their affair was coming to an end.

"Kiki…do you think he knows?" Malik whispered, stroking Shizuka's hair back as they lay nude by the crackling fire.

"I don't know," she replied, feeling a pang of pity for her husband, who was on his third night shift in a row. "I don't think so. How could he? He's never here."

"What are you going to do when I'm gone?"

"I have to tell him, sooner or later. He'll probably want a divorce." She draped one arm over her eyes, feeling as though she had completely failed at life.

"I can't just let you take the fall. We both did this." Malik countered.

She propped herself up on one elbow. "Why would you bother? You have nothing to lose. _I'm_ the one having the affair, not you."

"Perhaps, but I'm just as much to blame. I feel just as bad as you, doing this to one of my best friends… I can't just skip the country and leave you to pick up all the pieces. He'd probably never speak to me again."

"He probably won't, anyway." Shizuka sighed, laying back down on his chest. "I know I wouldn't, if it was me. I'd file for divorce, and that would be that."

"Do you _want_ to stay married to him?"

"…yes." she answered, after some thought. "I just wish there was a way we could reach some kind of equilibrium where we were able to satisfy each other's needs. I know he loves me, but sometimes I think he finds me rather dull. I know I'm not on the same wavelength as him, intellectually."

"But he's not on the same as yours, physically."

She recoiled at hearing the truth spoken out loud. "It would seem not."

"Whatever happens, I promise I'll be here for you." Malik reassured, planting a kiss on her head. "I've come to care a great deal about you, Shizuka."

The woman tensed. She had had a great number of men attempting to woo her, in he4r younger years, and while a select few had gotten past the initial stages, only one had made her fall madly in love—Ryou. The rest had merely been lust-fuelled flings, as she had used her cherubic looks to her advantage to get whatsoever her heart had desired.

The days of innocent little Shizuka Kawai from Nagasaki had died around the time she turned sixteen. After she moved to Domino City to live with her brother, finishing her last years of school at Domino High, she had wised up to the ways of the world. Young men threw themselves at her, which became a delightful novelty, and she'd had a great deal of fun bending them to her will.

To her, this fling with Malik was no different—except that she was now a married woman—and if there was one thing that stood firm in her mind, it was that it was to be a purely physical thing. The raw delight as they engaged in the act was a physical release for her, and nothing more than that. She was afraid that Malik might end up falling for her, as men often had in the past, only for her to give them the cold shoulder. The first few times they had found themselves in one another's arms, she had made it abundantly clear that she did not intend for it to be anything other than sex.

"You don't need to worry about me," she mumbled. "Whatever happens, I can look after myself."

* * *

Shizuka woke with a start; what only felt like minutes had indeed been hours, the fire having died down to mere embers. Before she could rouse Malik or even reach for her clothing, the lights in the living room suddenly flicked on. Malik awoke with a start as they both squinted at the sudden brightness.

"I _knew_ it."

Shizuka was stunned to see Ryou standing in the doorway, his face as somber as a London grey day. "Ryou…!"

Malik too sat up, but no words would come. They had been caught red-handed.

Ryou's face looked pinched in resigned shock. "How long?" he uttered tightly.

"Ryou…let us explain." Malik offered weakly.

"How fucking long?!" he roared.

"Two fucking months!" Shizuka shot back, losing her resolve and giving in to the anger. "Are you really so surprised? You're never _here_, Ryou!"

"I know things haven't been perfect lately, Kiki, but I would never have expected you to be _unfaithful_!" Ryou retaliated, his voice cracking in a sob. "God, I haven't got the fucking energy for this, right now."

A sob rose up in Shizuka's chest at seeing her husband so emotional. She knew she had wounded him badly, perhaps irrevocably. "I'm so sorry." She choked out, knowing an apology was futile.

"I need sleep." Ryou uttered, putting up his hands as if to say 'no more'. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Shizuka could see that Ryou was on the precipice of delirium from sleep deprivation; she had seen him in this state many times over the years. After such long shifts at the hospital, he would sometimes sleep as long as twenty hours straight. She often wondered how he even functioned, let alone offered his medical skills, in such a state.

Ryou had locked their bedroom door from the inside, so Shizuka ruefully went to sleep in the guest room. Malik stayed by the fire and slept on the sofa, and by morning, he was gone. Shizuka woke to see a note left by him on the kitchen table, reading: "_I've gone to Florence for the night, so you two can talk. Be back tomorrow…if you'll have me. M._"

It was early afternoon by the time Ryou finally stirred. Shizuka had been anxiously awaiting his awakening, channeling her anxiety into baking bread, cookies and other Christmasy-type goods. The house was also spotless from top to toe; Shizuka often found herself tidying or cleaning, whenever she was stressed or angry about something. Ironically, stress seemed to make her more productive, whereas Ryou simply became fatigued and withdrawn.

Ryou entered the kitchen, wearing blue striped pyjama pants and a white _Rolling Stones_ t-shirt. His hair emulated a bird's nest, and his eyes looked puffy, as though he had been crying. Without a word, Shizuka made some coffee and set it down on the kitchen table for him, together with a freshly baked bun. Ryou, taking the path of least resistance, sat down and took the offering. His wife took a seat opposite the table from him, trembling in fear of the impending onslaught.

"Where is he?" Ryou asked in monotone.

"Florence." she croaked. "Left this morning."

Ryou took a long draw on his coffee, followed by a long breath in and then out again. He levelled her gaze. "Do you love him?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No."

"And him?"

She shook her head again. "No."

"Where does this leave us, then?"

Feeling tears on the horizon, Shizuka looked down at her interlaced hands. "I assume you'll want a divorce."

"Is that what _you_ want?"

She gasped, as if such a suggestion were unthinkable. "No! Of course I don't."

"Then what _do_ you want?" his tone was tight, impatient.

"I…" her voice wobbled pitifully. "Malik was a mistake. It was one stupid, thoughtless moment that I let go on for too long."

Ryou ground his jaw. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I just want you to _be_ here, Ryou. With me. On our farm, _together_. I _miss_ you, for God's sake."

"I can't be in two places at once, Kiki. Either I work to keep us afloat, until the farm starts to pay for itself, or we go to financial ruin, and all your hard work will be for nothing." Ryou tactfully explained. "I know our marriage isn't perfect—far from it—but for all the love of _God_, I never thought you would do something like this—and with _him_! Why didn't you tell me you were so unhappy?"

"Your career has always been more important than me." She whispered, speaking as though the words themselves were shards of broken glass.

"That simply isn't _true_," Ryou proclaimed, standing up from the table to join her on the other side. "Kiki…my _koi_. You know how much I love you, don't you?"

She nodded tearfully. She _did_ know.

"You know, I was about to become a Registrar, before we decided to chuck it all in." he revealed, causing her eyes to go round. "I turned down the opportunity because I _love_ you, Shizuka. Your happiness, and our marriage, is more important to me than my career as a doctor. My profession will always be important to me…but you are more so."

This only made her cry harder. "Oh God, Ryou, I'm so fucking sorry. I've been a complete bitch. You deserve so much better than me."

"There now, that's not true." He replied, wrapping his arms around her as she cried into his shoulder. "You're not a bad person, Kiki."

"I don't understand how you can be so forgiving." She hiccupped.

There was a long silence before Ryou replied, so long that Shizuka wondered whether it meant he would never actually find it in him, to forgive her.

"I've been where you are now, before." He finally said, his eyes looking far-off. "I know what it feels like, to be the one in the wrong."

Shizuka sat up and dried her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"As you know…Malik and I were seeing each other for a while, a long time ago." Ryou answered evenly. "It was a foolish lapse in judgement, on my part, fuelled by rage, after we'd had an argument one night. I went to the pub," he went on. "I got rather drunk, and I ended up meeting someone. I was so far gone, so lost in misery, that I didn't even think twice when she asked me to go home with her."

Shizuka was quiet for a while, digesting this new information. She would never have taken Ryou for a cheater. "Does he know?"

"I had to tell him." Ryou replied, running a hand through his hair. "I couldn't live with the shame."

"How did he take it?"

"As well as you could expect…which is to say, not well at all." Ryou replied with a contrite shrug, opening his palms. "I broke his heart."

Shizuka reached over and squeezed his hand, but said nothing.

"Perhaps this is atonement, for what I did to him." Ryou mused with a weak smile.

"It doesn't make what I did right, though." she rebuked. "How are you even still _friends_?"

"He went back to Egypt, not long after that. After I got accepted into med school in the UK, he contacted me. We _did_ miss each other, admittedly, so we stayed in touch. We met up once, in Monte Carlo. He was working a casual job at a casino there. Then, not long after that…I met you."

Shizuka smiled at him through her tears. "Do you have unresolved feelings for each other?"

Ryou sighed thoughtfully. "I don't know if he ever really got over me, or what happened. He loved me more than I loved him, I think."

Shizuka's stomach dropped like a stone, and she instantly felt pity for Malik. He had been the innocent one, in all of this, and she realised that she had judged him unfairly for practically his whole life. For some reason, she had always made him out in her mind to be the one who had played Ryou, given his narcissistic and manipulative ways, back then, but it had been quite the opposite.

"He deserves someone who loves him just as much." Ryou added, sagely. "That person wasn't me."

* * *

Ryou called in sick to the hospital that day, feigning a migraine, so he could spend the day with his wife, in an attempt to heal the cracks in the foundation of their marriage. They spent the day exploring another hill town nearby, where nobody would know them, looking in quaint shops and having coffee in boutique cafes. Both feeling tender, a stroll in a new environment where they had no association with anyone or anything, was just the salve for their bruised hearts.

They returned to the manor by dinnertime, bringing home some local cheese, bread and wine, and lit the fire. It was dark and chilly outside, and Malik had not yet returned, but Shizuka dared not speak of him. Quite frankly, she was lucky to still have a man to call her husband, given her actions over the past few months. Although still tender, she had greatly enjoyed her day out with Ryou, and the time they had so desperately needed together was not spent in vain.

With their bellies full of cheese and olives, Ryou and Shizuka drained the first bottle of wine like it was water, and were very quickly onto their second. More than just a little tiddly, they later found themselves reminiscing about the early days, both in Japan and in London, and sharing things they had never known about each other, before. There was laughter, more tears, and more importantly, love—the kind of love that Shizuka thought had gone beyond the point of rekindling.

"Oh, Kiki," Ryou breathed, laying between his wife's legs and kissing her hungrily. "I want you…I want you so much, right now."

"I've waited so long to hear you say that," she whispered tearfully, returning the kiss just as fervently.

"I know, my darling," he said, pressing her down harder into the sofa. "I promise I'll do better. I promise."

Shizuka moaned softly as a pleasant warmth filled her body, from her beating heart to the soles of her feet. Ryou carefully undressed her, in an unhurried and meticulous way that was so typical of him, laying gentle kisses upon every bare inch of skin as it was exposed. She shivered, though the crackling heat of the fire was fierce, as her husband slid her underwear off her hips and down past her ankles, sliding his hands back up her slim yet curvaceous legs.

Their lips came together once again, and Shizuka shuffled down onto her knees to remove Ryou's trousers. The sight of his engorged manhood as it sprung up over his underwear excited her even further. A hollow gasp elicited from Ryou as she lunged forward to take it into her mouth, devotedly lavishing in the warm silky-smoothness of his most intimate place.

"Ngh…d-darling…" Ryou quivered, gasping hoarsely some five minutes later. "Please…I don't want to finish just yet…"

She acquiesced and sat up, straddling him. They kissed one another like unbridled teenagers in the throes of their first erotic encounter, hardly able to break away for breath for the urgency. Ryou, asserting dominance against his eager partner, pushed Shizuka back down onto the sofa. He kissed her breasts, sucked her nipples, and then sunk to the floor, parting her legs, softly kissing her inner thighs.

"My goodness," he breathed, noticing how wet she already was. "you certainly are ready, aren't you?"

She squirmed, thrusting her pelvis almost involuntarily. "Stop teasing me,"

Ryou wasted not a moment longer, honing in on his target with enthusiasm. Mere seconds later Shizuka had dissolved into jelly beneath him, howls of ecstasy tearing from her throat as he licked and sucked, massaging her vagina with his tongue and fingers. So lost were they in the haze of their rapture, neither one heard the front door open and close, nor the footsteps coming into the living room.

"Woah, fuck! S-sorry—!"

The amorous couple snapped up like a spring-loaded trap, just in time to see Malik whirling out of the room. Clearly he had not expected to walk in on them, let alone in exactly the same situation as he himself had been with Shizuka, the previous evening.

"W-wait, Malik…come back." Ryou called, causing Shizuka to raise an alarmed eyebrow.

"What are you doing?!" she mouthed.

"That's…probably not a good idea." Came Malik's cautious reply.

"Malik, listen. I know that what you did was probably, in part, pay-back for what I did to you, all those years ago." Ryou replied ruefully. "I guess you could say we're even, now."

"Yeah, well…so what?"

"So…why don't you join us?" Ryou gauged Shizuka's reaction. Her expression foretold a mixture of bewilderment and curious contemplation, as she pondered the idea. "Then we can put all of this…'to bed', if you will."

The room was silent for some tense moments, while Malik mulled over this latest development. Hesitantly, he half-turned his head around the corner. "Only if Kiki wants to."

"Darling? What do you say?" Ryou gave her a flirty grin, the kind she only ever saw after he'd had a few too many. "It could be _fun_."

'Fun' was _hardly_ a fitting adjective revolving in her mind, right at the present moment. The idea of engaging in a threesome with her husband and lover was an erotic fantasy she had indulged in, on more than one occasion. The thought of it becoming reality made her feel faint with desire.

"Okay." She uttered with a tight nod.

Ryou smiled as she consented. "Good girl," he kissed her lingeringly. "now, where was I…?"

Shizuka sighed blissfully as Ryou resumed his ministrations on her. She lazily opened her eyes at the sound of Malik entering the room once again, surprised and delighted to see him undressed and already hard. Her body radiated with warmth under Ryou's touch, and at the thought of having them both ravaging her at the same time. The way Malik's eyes glowed in the firelight made her catch her breath as he leaned down to kiss her, touching her breasts and tweaking her nipples softly.

She groaned lowly, recognizing the taste of _grappa_ on his tongue, and reached down to stroke his cock. He responded in kind, before moving downward to join Ryou. He pushed her legs open wider, and began licking and suckling on her aroused flesh, settling into a rhythm together with her husband.

Shizuka's whole body was tingling and trembling at the sensation of two tongues pleasuring her at once. Among her greatest fantasies involved two men going down on her, but never did she think it would actually happen in real life. She was so wet, her clitoris so full and hard, she didn't think she could possibly take another moment of it, until Malik swirled his tongue around her rectum and slid a finger inside.

"_Oh my God!" _

"You like that, Kiki?" Ryou whispered with a smirk. He continued fingering her vagina, while Malik worked her ass. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Oh God—oh Kami! I'm going to come!" she shrieked, bucking against their fingers and tongues. "Oh! I'm coming!"

All at once Malik and Ryou intensified their motions, until she couldn't hold back the threat of orgasm any longer. "Oh, oh, oh! _Ohhhh….!_"

Shizuka's whole body shook in uncontrolled ecstasy as she erupted into spasms of sheer bliss, waves upon waves of pleasure surging through her body. Like the aftershocks of an earthquake, the ripples gradually subsided, and she regained some semblance of composure.

Breathing heavily, she looked down and saw that the two men were only just getting warmed up. They were kissing—sharing the taste of her on each other's tongues—and firmly pumping each other's penises, moaning and mumbling sweet nothings to each other. Her face flashed with fire—arousal, and perhaps a little jealousy, toiling through her veins. Boldly, she slipped down from the sofa to join them on the floor, and reached to touch each one of them intimately.

Malik turned his attention on her, kissing her and squeezing her breasts as she lowered her head to suck on his hard, straining manhood. While not quite as well-endowed as Ryou, Malik had a sizeable member at full engorgement, which—between the two of them— Shizuka secretly preferred. Ryou—sometimes unknowingly—caused her pain with his size. Tonight, however, she didn't envision that being such an issue.

Ryou spanked her pale buttocks and maneuvered her rear end up against himself, sliding his long, hard penis into her with ease. She groaned and grunted deeply as she stretched to accommodate him, all the while lavishing attention on Malik. The two men began to pulse into her mouth and vagina respectively, tilting their heads back every now and then, drowning in euphoria. Ryou found his stride, planting one leg forward to stabilize himself as he drilled into his wife, slapping mercilessly against her bottom with his balls. Malik, on the other hand, took care not to choke her, holding her mane of auburn hair back as he gently guided himself between her lips.

"Ngh…Ryou…not so hard!" she cried out when she'd had enough, as he banged her roughly from behind.

"Sorry, darling," he panted, withdrawing from her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded meekly, moving on her hands and knees to lay down on her back. "Want to swap?"

Ryou and Malik exchanged glances, and when Ryou gave him a subtle nod of permission, he shuffled over to her. Laying down between her legs, Malik and Shizuka kissed lingeringly before he eased his cock into her, thrusting slowly at first, and then with more vigour. She let out a long drawl of satisfaction, as Ryou crawled to sit by her head, masturbating as he watched them.

"It's so hot watching you fuck," the snowy-haired man choked lustily, watching as Malik's abs flexed and contracted as he made exquisite love to Shizuka's writhing body.

"You're not jealous?" Malik husked. "_I_ was…"

Ryou gazed at him with large dark eyes, touched of what looked like remorse. "Maybe you should fuck _me_ next, then."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of olive branch?"

"You can't say I never do anything for you." Ryou smiled, his eyes half-closed from the warmth of the fire and the wine.

Malik smirked back at him. "You know what? I think I'd rather just fuck your wife,"

At that caustic remark, Ryou whipped Malik's backside with a sharp spank.

"Careful," Malik sniggered. "You know I like that."

"Oh Malik…_yes_…" Shizuka moaned from beneath him, hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him further into her. "Deeper…"

"Ngh…is that good, _anata_?"

Shizuka gazed up at him, flushing at the term of endearment in her native language. She glanced at Ryou, who looked as though he was about to combust at any moment. "I want you both to fuck me," she panted yearnfully. "at the same time."

Words need not be exchanged as they assumed a position that would be comfortable for all three of them. Ryou lay down on the sofa, and Shizuka mounted him cowgirl style. She lowered herself down onto his cock, until he was fully sheathed inside her. Then, slowly and with great care, Malik knelt behind her, stretching her ass with his fingers as she began to ride her husband. When he felt she was acclimated enough, he slid his cock into her ass.

"_Oh_, fuck…" Shizuka rasped, rolling her eyes back into her head.

"Jesus, that's a nice view," Ryou watched in a lustful haze, pumping his cock in and out of his wife's vagina, while his ex-lover took her anally from behind.

Malik shuddered involuntarily as he began to thrust gently in and out of her, clasping her body close to allow himself more leverage. Despite the initial pain, Shizuka willed herself to relax and adapt to his girth, and the pain soon melted into pleasure. Ryou, on the other hand, could barely hold himself back from orgasm, and began thrusting with more urgency.

Shizuka arched her back, a symphony of pleasured exultations escaping her throat at the sensation of being doubly penetrated. Both Malik and Ryou were now grunting and moaning in equal measure as they found their rhythm, pulsing in and with due care at first, and then with more enthusiasm when she made it known she had passed the threshold of pain and had now arrived in the realm of pleasure.

"Jesus, I can't hold on," Ryou cried, throwing his head back as he drew ever-near to the edge.

"Don't hold back, darling," Shizuka whispered tenderly, leaning down to kiss him. "Give it all to me."

He gazed back up at her, his fevered face glazed with a thin sheen of sweat. "I love you, Kiki," he panted. "Ngh…fuck, I'm coming…!"

Shizuka slid her feet underneath of herself for more purchase and rode him like a rodeo horse, bracing herself for the monumental eruption as Ryou came with a mighty holler. His throat went dry and his voice cracked as he gripped onto her, crushing her in his arms as he purged his seed. The married couple kissed tenderly, and Shizuka was surprised to feel tears running down her cheeks. It had not only been a physical release, but an emotional one, too.

But, the show was not over, yet.

Shizuka dismounted her husband, turning to face her lover as he disengaged from her. He got to his knees and pushed her back against the sofa cushions, spreading her legs and diving headfirst into her vagina. He licked and swallowed the creamy essence that Ryou had deposited inside her with relish, causing her to shriek in delight and expel her husband's load. Ryou too got to the floor, took Malik's cock in his hand and began to jerk him off.

"I want you to finish inside me," Ryou requested in a low, yet pleading tone. "just one last time."

Malik glanced up at the woman he was pleasuring. "I think your wife should decide."

Shizuka hesitated, and then decided it couldn't do any harm. They had all gone far beyond the bounds of fidelity, at this point. "I don't mind." She breathed. "If that's what you both want."

Ryou smiled and kissed the back of his wife's hand, then kissed Malik and lay down on the floor, grabbing some cushions and placing them under his rear end. Malik's eyes were on fire with lust as he hovered over top of his past lover, lubricating and fingering his asshole to prepare him. Ryou moaned breathily, feeling himself growing hard again as Malik feathered kisses down his neck.

"How long's it been?" Malik whispered, pressing the tip of his cock against Ryou's tight entrance.

"It's only ever been you." Ryou sighed, winding his arms around Malik's body.

"Really?" Malik replied with intrigue, pushing the tip inside. "Then let's ensure it stays that way."

Moments later he was fully ensconced in the British man's body, alabaster and amber melded together like a cinnamon swirl bun. Shizuka was entranced watching the two men fuck, and felt suddenly wanton all over again. She had never heard Ryou moan the way he was now, and she mildly wondered if it was due to pain or pleasure, or a desirous combination of both. Sweat was glistening on Malik's hard body, veins in his neck and arms popping out with effort as he thrusted vigorously in and out of Ryou's ass.

"Oh _Gods_," Malik drawled, craning his head back and muttering something unintelligible in Arabic.

"Sit on my face, Kiki," Ryou rasped out, beckoning her to sit astride him.

She did so, facing toward Malik, and moaned as Ryou began to pleasure her with his tongue. She reached forward to pump his cock, which had become erect once again. Malik slowed his pace, pumping in an achingly languid rhythm; he knew Ryou loved slow, unhurried lovemaking as much as he enjoyed being roughed up. To Malik's detriment, however, the former often meant the happy ending arrived all too soon. It gave him pause for thought about what he was actually doing—the intense eroticism of the moment—and more times than not sent him over the edge. No sooner had he dialed it back to try and prolong the raunchy session, he felt his orgasm could wait no longer.

"Oh, _yeah_," Malik mewled, picking up pace again as the floodgates started to open. "Oh—! Oh, Gods, I'm going to come!"

Shizuka lunged forward to kiss Malik as his face contorted in ecstasy, his eyebrows knit together in an expression of utmost euphoria as he finally came, expelling his essence with one final surge of momentum. A strangulated cry escaped his lips as he reached his pinnacle, before collapsing against Ryou's chest. Shizuka nimbly dismounted and sat beside the two panting men, letting them have their moment. Ryou and Malik kissed tenderly, and Shizuka noticed a rogue tear slip from the corner of Malik's eye. She knew it was because he wasn't over Ryou, and quite possibly never would be.

Later on, all three of them were in a state of pleasant satedness, dozing languidly by the warmth of the fire, and reveling in the afterglow of their impromptu lovemaking. It was as if all the troubles of the past—Malik and Ryou's doomed relationship, Ryou and Shizuka's marriage woes, and Shizuka and Malik's affair—had all come full circle. By engaging in the ultimate act of intimacy, exposing their secrets and vulnerabilities, the slate had been wiped clean. The score had been settled, and all broken-heartedness, jealousies and betrayals would be remembered, in time, as echoes of the past.

* * *

SPRING

Shizuka cheerfully snapped shut her laptop after a long day of doing the books. The farm's wine sales had gone tremendously over the Christmas period, together with their olive oil and truffles, giving them the financial bolster they had so desperately needed in order to stay afloat through the cold season. Now, they would be able to install proper air conditioning in the manor, and start taking bookings to have groups of tourists, touring the farm and sampling their products. They had even made enough money for Ryou to resign from the hospital and take another job as a locum doctor, only working as and where needed on a part-time basis.

Shizuka hadn't been so happy in a long time. Of course, every day still had its challenges, but she felt as though her problems were halved, now that Ryou was around more often to shoulder some of the burden.

And, there were days where she still missed Malik.

Instead of treating him as a taboo, however, Ryou and Shizuka now spoke openly about him, and the impact he had had on both of their lives. Subsequently, and perhaps a little ironically, Malik's presence had forged their marriage together more strongly than it had been before. Now that he was gone—this time to work on a multi-million dollar launch, somewhere in the Mediterranean—they both felt his absence poignantly, but it was obviously in each of their best interests that he move on, so they could all continue to grow, heal and learn about one another and themselves, in their pursuits of fulfilment.

"How are we tracking?" Ryou smiled up at Shizuka as she joined him on the verandah. He was sitting on one of the bench seats with a blanket over his legs, holding a mug of tea in one hand, and a book in the other.

Shizuka sat down on his knee, linking her arms around his neck. "I never thought I'd get to say this," she said. "but, we're in _profit_."

Ryou chuckled and squeezed her waist. "I told you it would all work out, didn't I?"

"I wish I had believed you."

The hillsides were still the hazy grey-brown of winter, but before long, the budding trees would burst forth into blossom, and with it the promise of ripe fruit to come, again.


	4. The Smoking Room (Part One)

**Author's note:** This story came across to me as a little AU, erring more on the realistic side (as realistic as anime can be, anyway XD). I will let you decide for yourself what you think.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of its characters; they are all created and owned by Kazuki Takahashi. The setting and plot, however, are my own.

**WARNING:** This story contains the following: shounen-ai (boy/boy love) soft-core yaoi, coarse language.

* * *

**"The Smoking Room"**

**Part One**

**Jounouchi Katsuya x Seto Kaiba**

**(Puppyshipping)**

* * *

Death was a funny thing, and not something that Jounouchi had been acquainted with all too often, in his thirty-two years, though he supposed that that was a good thing. His father had since passed on, and according to his sister, their mother was in declining health and likely wouldn't last the winter. Though it may sound callous, Jou wasn't overly bothered by this. He hadn't seen or spoken to his mother since he was seventeen—almost half his life ago. After his parents' divorce, his relationship with her had been irrevocably damaged, and he was quite certain that, even on her deathbed, his mother wouldn't be interested in making amends. This was something he had come to terms with a long time ago, when she even rejected his invitation to visit Domino so she could meet her first grandchild.

The deaths of elder folk was something that most people were able to comprehend, and generally accept as part of the natural course of life.

Unexpected deaths of young people, however, were another story entirely.

"Do you need any help, Jounou-san? Why don't you break for lunch?"

Jou surfaced from underneath the hood of the car he was working on, to see his boss leaning against the side of the vehicle with a vaguely concerned expression. "All good here, sir. Best if I keep myself busy, if you know what I mean."

The older man gave a curt nod and patted the side of his shoulder. "I'll bring you back a bento. Don't go flogging yourself today, alright?"

Jou forced a smile. "I won't."

If there was one positive thing to come out of a sudden death, it was that everyone suddenly became uncharacteristically compassionate, going out of their way to ensure you had everything you needed. Over the past three months, Jou had received more care packages and casseroles than he could adequately stuff inside his freezer, some from the most unlikely of people. His boss—who was notoriously hard-nosed toward not only Jounouchi, but the staff generally—had even given him two weeks' paid leave.

Jou never thought he would become a father, let alone a single father. He had only been back at work for a couple of weeks, after what had been a nightmarish period that he wouldn't ever wish upon his worst enemy. The fact that it had all happened so suddenly only intensified his loss, and in the days following Noriko's death, he woke up wondering how on Earth he would ever be able to go on, without her.

It was just a regular, humdrum Tuesday night.

Jou had been bathing their daughter, Honoka, while Noriko was preparing dinner. When he came out into the living room after drying Hona and putting her into her PJ's, Noriko was lying face-down on the kitchen floor, unresponsive with blood issuing from her nose.

It was a regular Tuesday night, that Jounouchi wished he could forget. The night he lost his partner of almost ten years, the night his daughter lost her mother of eight.

The worst part about it for Jounouchi, was that there was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent it. Noriko had had a cerebral aneurysm due to an underlying genetic condition that neither she—nor anyone else—hadn't even known she had. She was thirty-one years old.

Nearly a decade earlier, it had surprised everyone—especially Jounouchi, himself—when Noriko announced her pregnancy. Jou had met Noriko at a bar one night, and while he wanted more than just casual sex—she did not, insisting that she was saving to go travelling and wasn't interested in a relationship. So, Jou took all that she was willing to offer, and two years later, he got his wish. Not only did he and Noriko decide to make a go of it, he also became a father to a sweet baby girl.

Jou lived for his daughter, vowing to be a better father to her than his own father was to him, while Noriko took to motherhood like a duck to water. Thankfully, Noriko came from a stable and supportive family, and while she wasn't able to fulfil her dream of travel, she threw herself into parenting and took up work again as a hairdresser part-time, when Honoka started pre-school.

Sometimes, Jou wondered what he'd done to deserve such happiness. But, after a rough start—born to a mother who despised him and an alcoholic father—and dabbling with drugs and gang life in his youth—maybe his turn had finally come. Honda Hiroto had managed to land him an apprenticeship at a mechanic owned by an acquaintance of his, and three years later he was qualified and earning decent money. It had taken him until he was twenty-five, but Jou had finally found his feet; he was in love, making good money, and was a father to a beautiful brown-eyed little girl.

He was doing as well, in fact—if not better—than some of his old school friends; Yuugi now owned and operated a gay club in Domino City's LGBTQ nightlife hotspot, Anzu was performing as a cabaret dancer on cruise liners, and Honda was now a fully-qualified karate sensei, and had just bought his own dojo. Otogi Ryuuji still owned Black Crown and was branching out into other avenues of business, such as online and video gaming. Ryou Bakura was still something of an enigma, as he always had been, but last Jou heard he had earned himself a degree in epidemiology and now worked in vaccine research. Finally—and perhaps the only other person who'd made such a lasting impression on Jounouchi in his teens—was Kaiba.

Nothing much changed with Kaiba—nor his obscenely gluttonous company—after his somewhat insane quest to bring back the Pharaoh to duel him, one last time. No, things were quiet on the western front for three of four years following that, until he met a woman by the name of Samantha Reinhardt—the foxy-faced, ice-blonde heiress to the American conglomerate company Reinhardt Medical Technology Inc. In what was touted as perhaps the most exorbitant whirlwind romance of the century, Kaiba and Samantha were married and expecting their first child—a son—within eighteen months of meeting one another.

It came as no surprise then, when now, seven years later, Kaiba found himself embroiled in a very public and bitter divorce battle, with Samantha and her entourage of lawyers attempting to take him for everything he had. Some were surprised it had even lasted that long; if rumours were anything to go by, Samantha was just as difficult to live with as most people imagined Kaiba to be. As was standard in the celebrity world, the couple had cited 'irreconcilable differences', but every week the tabloids would blast out a new reason behind their separation.

Jounouchi knew that Kaiba wouldn't be concerned with the money—he would have made her sign an ironclad prenup, at the very least—what he would be most concerned about was keeping custody of his son. His now-ex-wife was presently threatening to take him back to America with her to live, and Kaiba was fighting tooth and nail to keep him in the country he was born in. Jou wondered if Kaiba realised by now that all the money and power in the world couldn't buy happiness, after all.

Eight years of happiness seemed like a woefully short time to Jounouchi, before his world was flipped upside down. How was one supposed to recover from the shock loss of their beloved, let alone try to explain to their eight-year-old daughter that their mother was never coming home?

Later that day, Jou waited patiently outside the school gate, glancing at his watch every minute or two. A stream of children finally began to trickle out the main entrance, very quickly turning to a rushing throng of little bodies hurrying to get home, or to after-school clubs. Finally, Jou spied the light brown head of his daughter among the sea of young students.

Her face lit up as she spotted him. "Otōsan!"

"Hey kiddo," he grinned, tweaking her cheek as she ran over. "What's new?"

"You got here early, today."

"I sure did." Jou replied jovially, taking her backpack from her and putting it on his own back. "and I'll be here every day, for as long as you want me to."

Doing the school run had typically been Noriko's job. Jounouchi's hours at the garage often meant early starts and late finishes; bath-time and story-time were his allocated slots of the day that he got to spend with Honoka. Now that he was staring into the face of single-parenthood, he had had no choice but to reduce his hours, so he could ensure that his daughter got to and from school safely—at least initially, until they both developed a new routine. On Thursday evenings, however, Honoka went to tennis club, affording Jou a few additional hours.

"How was school, today? Anything cool happen?" Jou asked, momentarily distracted by a sleek burgundy car parked across the street. It appeared to be a late-model European, perhaps a Jaguar.

"Good, I suppose." Honoka shrugged. "I missed my friends."

"Yeah," Jou mumbled, taking his eyes off the vehicle. "I bet."

"Papa?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Whatever you like, honey. What do you want?"

"Katsu curry?"

He smiled and took her hand. "Then katsu curry it is."

Later on, after bathing, showering and having dinner, Jounouchi was tucking a sleepy Hona into bed, when she said:

"Dad?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Something cool _did_ happen, today."

"Oh, yeah?" he smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. "What was that?"

"There's a new boy in my class."

Jou stiffened. Surely this couldn't be the beginning of school crushes, already…

"Oh yeah…?" he asked cautiously. "What's he like?"

Hona shrugged. "I don't know, yet. He doesn't say much."

"He's probably just a bit shy because he doesn't know anyone, yet." Jou said, somewhat relieved that his daughter wasn't about to declare her undying love for anyone. "What's his name?"

"Sora," she yawned. "Sora Kaiba."

* * *

Jou wasn't normally one to take particular interest in current news affairs, but lately it had been hard to avoid, given the recent turn of events in Kaiba's divorce proceedings over the past week or two, which appeared to be an ongoing, uphill battle. The once-dashing power couple were now hashing out the finer details of who got what, and, despite the immense wealth that Samantha was heiress to, she was insisting on exorbitant alimony payments and taking half of Kaiba's assets.

The fact that Sora Kaiba now attended his daughter's school had made Jou feel all kinds of befuddlement. It was commonly known that Kaiba's son had attended Domino's most prestigious private school—the best that money could buy—but only at Samantha Kaiba's insistence. Indeed, Kaiba had recently won the right to shared custody of Sora, and his ex-wife had been denied the right to take him back to the United States indefinitely, until he reached the age of fourteen and could decide for himself where he wanted to live, and with whom.

Kaiba, who had been privately educated himself as a youngster, had not wanted the same for his son, however. It was believed—if tabloid fodder was anything to go by—that he had wanted Sora to grow up in the 'real' world, and have the experience of public education and—when he grew older—to work, among the middle and working classes, despite hailing from one of the richest families in Asia. He would undoubtedly become the heir to KaibaCorp one day, but until that day came, Kaiba himself wanted to ensure that his son knew the real meaning of graft and toil.

"Hey, Daddy!"

"Hi, sweetheart." Jou grinned as Honoka ran toward him. He noticed a young boy trailing hesitantly behind her.

"Uhm, Dad…this is my new friend, Sora."

Despite the blood draining from his face and his mouth going dry, Jounouchi smiled at the boy. He had inherited his mother's ice blonde hair, but everything else about him was the spit of Kaiba. From the piercing blue eyes to his fine bone structure and flawless peachy skin, he was a beautiful child. Standing next to his daughter, with her dirty blondish-brown hair, dark eyes, and slightly darker complexion, he shone like a cherub.

"Nice to meet you, Sora-kun."

The boy bowed formally before him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Jounouchi-san no otōsan."

Jou was momentarily taken aback by the child's politeness. Given his father's attitude toward most people in general, he found it surprising.

"Dad, can I go and play at Sora's house this weekend?" Hona suddenly asked. "He's got his _own_ tennis court!" she shrieked, as if it were some kind of phenomenon.

Since Noriko's death, Jou had all but given Honoka whatever she asked for, in order to keep her happy during such a grievous time. This latest request, however, may have been overstepping the line.

"I don't know, honey. Have you been invited?"

She nodded her head enthusiastically. "Sora's in my tennis club! Right, Sora?"

The boy confirmed with a nod of his own. "Yes."

"We can practice together, and have the court all to ourselves!" Hona emphasised. "_Please_, Daddy? Please?"

Jou rubbed his forehead, knowing that this meant he was going to have to speak to Kaiba himself, about this. The thought alone filled him with both trepidation and nausea. It had been a long time since he'd seen Kaiba in the flesh, let alone had the pleasure of conversing with him.

"Alright, but I'm going to have to talk to Sora's Mom or Dad about it first, okay?"

"My father has arrived; you can ask him now." Sora pointed out, his eyes resting upon the burgundy Jaguar Jounouchi had noticed last week.

A shot of adrenaline squeezed through Jounouchi's heart as the tinted glass of the driver's window slid down. A pair of identical blue eyes were fixed on him in an expression of intrigue and distrust.

"Come on, Dad! Let's go ask him!" Hona tugged at Jou's hand and the three of them took up pace toward the curb.

Seeing they were heading toward him, Kaiba lurched out of his car and hurried to meet his son, before a throng of photographers descended upon the four of them. Honoka screamed as paparazzi with blinding cameras seemed to appear from thin air—behind trees, parked cars and other spaces.

"What the—!" Jou instinctively grabbed his daughter, shielding her from the sudden assault of strangers and bright lights.

Kaiba, too, lifted his son from the ground, rewarding Jou with a glare that said a thousand words. "Let's go."

Jounouchi decided questions would have to come later, as he hustled across the road with his kid latching onto him. He tossed her into the back seat of Kaiba's car with Sora, then leapt into the passenger's seat himself. Kaiba haphazardly pulled his seatbelt across himself, ignited the engine, and then gunned it. Hona was still crying, but Sora seemed completely unmoved by the whole experience.

"It's alright, honey. We're safe, now." Jou tried to console her, patting her leg.

"Where are we _going_?" she wailed.

"We're going to Sora's house." Jou responded, figuring that that's likely where Kaiba was heading, in any case.

Jou glanced furtively at Kaiba, who had been practically silent. "You mind telling me what the hell _that_ was all about?"

"Later." Kaiba said curtly, glancing in the rear-vision mirror at his son.

Ah, so he had it, too—parent-code. In other words, no scary adult conversations in front of the kids.

Jou sighed. "Fine…"

After what felt like an excruciatingly long and awkward ride back to Kaiba's home, Jounouchi practically ejected himself from the car and prised his daughter out of the back seat. Instead of fear in her eyes, however, was wonder, as the two of them gazed at the impressive mansion. Jounouchi hadn't been back to the Kaiba residence since he was a teenager, and he was under no illusions that Kaiba would remember the last time he was here, either.

"Do you have any homework tonight, Sora?"

The child nodded. "Yes, father."

Kaiba glanced at Honoka. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced." He said, bending down on one knee to be at eye-level with her. "I'm Sora's Dad, Seto. What's your name?"

"H-Honoka." She stuttered quietly, half-hidden behind Jounouchi's leg.

"You're welcome here any time, Honoka-chan."

"A-arigatou gozaimasu."

"Go and make a start on your homework with Sora, baby. Then you can play for a bit, okay?" Jou smiled and ruffled her hair. "We can get curry for dinner afterward; your favourite."

Hona's brown eyes lit up at the promise of curry, later on. "Okay, Daddy." With that said, she vanished, following Sora, who was waiting on the stairs.

Once well out of earshot of the children, Jou said, "Listen, I'm sorry about what happened—"

"Don't apologise." Kaiba cut in. "You weren't to know."

Jou gave him a somewhat dubious look. Was Kaiba actually being…civil? Here he was, ready for the dressing down of his life, and yet he was being told he wasn't to blame?

"Uh…well, thanks, I guess." Jou raised his eyes to look at Kaiba, who was staring absentmindedly out the window. "It must be hard…what you're going through, right now."

"I've been through worse." Kaiba deadpanned. "But, it's not what I would call pleasant."

"Those paps are vultures, man. Like you haven't got _enough_ to deal with, right now."

"I don't need your pity, Jounouchi." Ah, there it was—the Kaiba of old. "There might've once been a time when I even _enjoyed_ that kind of attention. When it comes to your own kid though…it's different."

"Yeah," Jou agreed. "I'd do anything to protect my daughter."

Silence filled the room for some moments, before Kaiba addressed the elephant in the room. "I didn't realise you had become a father."

"Yeah, well…it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Who is her mother?" Kaiba charged on, ignoring the innuendo.

"She, ah…" Jou inhaled deeply, still finding it impossible to speak about Noriko without feeling tears lingering beneath surface. "My girlfriend, Noriko. She passed away unexpectedly, a couple of months ago."

Kaiba's eyes faltered momentarily, before the mask slid back into place. "Doing it on your own, huh. I never thought I'd say this, but perhaps I could learn a thing or two, from you."

Jou snorted, rolling his eyes back so hard it almost hurt. "I'd give anything to have Noriko back, Kaiba. Sora's lucky he's still got his mom, even if you two aren't together, anymore."

"You should know better than anyone that some women were not born mothers."

Jou felt the pit of his stomach shrivel up, thinking about his own mother. "Some men aren't born to be dads, either." He pointed out, subtly raising an eyebrow.

Kaiba gave him a long, probing look, before shaking off whatever it was he was about to say. "I have work to do. Make yourself at home."

Jou shook his head. "I'll come back later. Those two are bound to be a couple of hours, at least."

"I can't have anyone seeing you leave—or coming back, for that matter." Kaiba replied crisply. "I'll have my driver take you home, then drop your daughter home when she's ready."

"She'll get scared on her own, Kaiba."

"Then I'll bring her back, myself."

Jou massaged his browbone. The idea of loitering around the Kaiba residence for the next two hours wasn't at all appealing, but knowing his daughter was here alone with Kaiba and his son didn't sit well with him, either. Then again, Jounouchi had known a side of Kaiba that few others had or ever would, and the way he looked at Sora, he knew that fatherhood had softened him. A pang of something both inflammatory and sensual passed through him at the thought of Kaiba having matured into a dedicated, loving father and husband—or, rather, ex-husband. Over the years, both he and Kaiba had known the joy a woman's body could bring—a far cry from Jounouchi's awkward teenage dalliances, that had resulted in getting to know Kaiba more intimately, than simply frenemies.

"Fine." Jounouchi relented, his arms falling loose and slapping against his thighs.

"Give me your phone." Kaiba demanded.

"Huh? Why?"

"Just give me it."

Reluctantly, Jou did so. Kaiba punched in a number and then texted it, causing his own cell phone to vibrate from inside his pocket. "There. I have your number, and you have mine." he muttered, slapping the phone back into Jou's hand.

"Charmed." Jou drawled.

Kaiba made for the stairs, turning to look back at him. "I'll see to it that your daughter is delivered home safely."

For some reason, Jou expected more than this. It had been fifteen years and he hadn't breathed a word of their secret to anybody—not even Noriko. A part of him felt mildly wounded that there was nothing more to be said, but perhaps words weren't necessary.

"See ya 'round, then."

"I know it's not in your nature to be discreet, Jounouchi," Kaiba took a step down, back toward him. "but I know you know how to keep a secret."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Jou's mouth. "Don't I just?"

"I cannot let anything jeopardize my parental rights, right now. Samantha will use anything she can against me. I'm sure you understand."

"You can trust me, Kaiba. I said it then, and I'm saying it again, now."

Jounouchi quickly said goodbye to Hona and departed for the waiting Audi A6 Quattro— with fully blacked-out windows—idling in the driveway. Kaiba had obviously done away with the clunky and slightly over-the-top limousine of old, in favour of keeping a more low-profile, these days. As they pulled away from the manor, Jou couldn't help the twinge of dread that rippled through him. The one thing left in the world that really mattered to him, was back there in that old mansion, a place full of memories he both cherished and wished he could forget.

Jou threw his keys down on the kitchen table and made for the bathroom, stripped off and stepped under the shower. Washing away the grease and grime of the day's work, he allowed himself the small mercy of full immersion into reminiscence, back to those early days when he had first fallen in love.

\- . - . - . - (flashback)

Otogi Ryuuji was one of those students that was annoyingly good at everything. Not only were his grades generally flawless, he was charming, friendly, attractive, wealthy, and had proven himself to be something of a star athlete, too. Whether it was swimming, running, basketball or tennis, he could do it all—but whatever Otogi could do, Jounouchi could do better—and whatever _Jounouchi_ could do, _Kaiba_ could do better. It was already common knowledge that Jounouchi and Kaiba mixed like water and oil, but when it came to club and inter-school sports, the competition became all the more heated.

Jou's strong suit—perhaps unsurprisingly—was fighting. His experience with gang life in his youth had taught him some hard and fast lessons in self-defence, and—when he wasn't _literally_ fighting for his life—he came to find the sport of boxing enjoyable. And oh—how he _longed_ to get in the ring with Kaiba. The thought of spending even one round cleaning Kaiba's clocks was unbearably tantalizing, but the young billionaire had enforced a silent protest of ever so much as setting a toe in there. Instead, the two often crossed paths at the school pool, or the basketball court.

Jounouchi was honestly shocked, to say the least, when Kaiba signed up to play basketball at the beginning of their first senior year. He had gotten to know him and the things he was capable of first hand at Duelist Kingdom, the year before, so his opinion of him up to that point in time was marginally less than stellar. In the year that followed, however, Jounouchi developed a kind of grudging respect for his nemesis, both on and off the court, and in and out of the school grounds. Kaiba, bewilderingly, indeed happened to be a skilled basketball player—using his height to his advantage—and possessed the fastest reflexes of anyone Jounouchi had ever seen.

Unfortunately—or perhaps _fortunately_—it was this exact talent that spelled the beginning of an already-perplexing relationship between the blonde and brunet, shifting the dynamic duo into unfounded territory.

It was a Monday afternoon in spring, not long after the school year had begun. This time, they were second year seniors, wearing their badges of honour in the form of cuts and bruises—both emotional and physical. It had been one of their first basketball practices of the year, and the boys were pumped to be getting back into the season, again. The coach divided the team into two, playing against themselves.

It was after halftime when the altercation occurred. Kaiba had stepped in front of Jounouchi, tripping him and stealing the ball. Jounouchi hollered and went down like a butcher's block, twisting his ankle in the process. In the spur of the moment, he reached for Kaiba's retreating leg and grabbed hold of his foot, pulling him to the court. Kaiba tumbled like a wayward skyscraper, before promptly finding himself with a passenger.

"That was deliberate, ya son of a bitch!"

Kaiba swiftly caught Jounouchi's fist in his own, as it came hurtling down toward his face. "Oh, and that _wasn't_?" he remarked, before slugging Jou across the nose with a left hook.

Jounouchi flew sideways, his nose gushing blood. A volley of expletives issued unchecked, other teammates flurrying to hold Jounouchi back from inciting further violence.

"What kind of an impression does this make on your peers?" their coach had thoroughly lambasted them both. "I don't know _what_ it is between you two, but you have _got_ to get over yourselves. You're seniors—_second year_ seniors! You're expected to set an example for the younger students; you're supposed to be _role_ models for them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am." Jounouchi mumbled nasally, holding his nose.

"It won't happen again, Minoyama-sensei."

"Good. And I better not be hearing anything from the teachers in your other clubs, either." She sighed, muttering something about an oncoming migraine. "Kaiba, take Jounouchi to the sick bay. You're both dismissed until next week."

Luckily, Jou had sustained an impressive case of a bleeding nose, but it hadn't been broken. It would likely be tender for a few days, but youth was on his side and he would bounce back, quickly.

Sitting alone in the sick bay—Kaiba having long since departed—Jou pondered the maelstrom of emotions that had surged through his veins when Kaiba had tripped him. Most predominantly, there was rage, perhaps a bit of jealousy, but also…tension. When he had completely lost all sense of reasoning and straddled the young CEO like a bucking bronco rider, the sensation of Kaiba's warm, hard body beneath him had stirred something. In Jou's mind, the only thing comparable to it was the natural affection and desire he had only ever felt toward girls, up to that point.

It wasn't as though he found Kaiba attractive on a sexual level; the mere thought of that idea actually rather sickened him. He knew to some degree that Kaiba was attractive—since half the female population of Domino seemed to lose their minds whenever he drew near—and he was indeed naturally athletic, with a physique that would even make other _men_ envious. Even the way Kaiba carried himself—in his stereotypically self-assured swagger—was not something he put on. He had walked that way for long enough for Jou to know that that was simply his natural gait. There was something almost…catlike, about it. And Jou knew that most of the female students would give their eye teeth to be hooked around one of those aptly muscular arms.

The thing was, Jou was indecisive as to whether he wanted to _be_ Kaiba, or be _with_ Kaiba. It felt like a perplexing combination of both, writhing against one another in a weird emotional melee, one not quite able to conquer the other—like putting two of the same magnets against each other. Though at times he seethed with jealousy over Kaiba's athletic and academic prowess, he was also struck with admiration…and, inexplicably, something more.

A few days later, Jounouchi went to the school pool to watch his other swim club members training—including Otogi and Kaiba. He was still nursing a sore ankle and a swollen nose, so practice was out of the question. Jou had always been a strong swimmer; sports in general was one of the few things in school that he excelled at.

Jou watched with a mild case of FOMO as the men prepared for their last stroke of the day. Notoriously the most difficult of all the swim styles, butterfly was loathed by most of the club members—except for one. For Kaiba, it was his best stroke. No one could better his time, not even Otogi. Kaiba had been at the top of the charts for two years running, and true to his own personal mantra, he crushed his competition without mercy.

Though Jou would never admit to it, it was quite an extraordinary sight, watching Kaiba perform in his best stroke. One might say it was almost _freakish_ the way he cut through the water like a creature born to it. Kaiba's broad, powerful shoulders, slim waist, lithe, streamlined legs, and large feet amounted to the ideal swimmer's body. Jou once again found himself burning from head to toe as he watched the blue-eyed teen prepping for his race—poised on the diving board, slapping his muscles—wearing naught but a pair of Speedos and swimming goggles. Moments later, he was in the water and Jou felt himself relax.

"Think you'll be all good for the interclub, next weekend?" Otogi queried, as he and Jou made to leave the rec centre, later that evening.

"Yeah, no sweat. It's just a scrape." Jou brushed off.

"You're _limping_." The raven-haired boy argued. "you should get that seen to; it might be broken, you know."

Jou laughed and smiled wryly, thinking of all the many injuries he had sustained over the years, and not just due to sports. "I've had a lot worse."

As the boys exited the building, they noticed it had been raining for some time. The asphalt was slick underfoot, the smell of damp earth mixing with traffic fumes permeating the air. Otogi elicited a unintelligible grunt, something along the lines of how he hated riding in the rain.

"I would offer you a ride, but, I've only got one helmet." He said. "Sorry, man."

Jou waggled his Pasmo card at him. "That's what this little baby's for."

Otogi knew it was quite a walk to the nearest train station, but smiled nonetheless. Nobody he knew was as tenacious as Jounouchi, except for perhaps Yuugi. "See you tomorrow, then."

Jou pulled his jacket collar up and departed for the station—with all the grace of a lame duck, on his bad ankle. A queer feeling of being watched suddenly overcame him, and despite hobbling as fast as he could out of the dark carpark and into the neon-lit suburbs of downtown Domino, he was unable to shake it. His intuition proved him correct, as a sleek black car pulled up to the kerb beside him. It was not a car Jounouchi recognised, until the window slid down. A pair of ice blue eyes studied him through the crack.

"You shouldn't be walking, on that."

Jou smirked. "Got a case of the guilts now, have we?"

"Don't blow your chance."

Jou debated arguing with him, but decided it was rare enough that he was being civil, let alone implying that he would give him a ride home. Jou stole a glance at Kaiba as he climbed in the passenger's side, noticing his hair was still wet from swim training. His skin was damp, giving off a somewhat luminous sheen under the blue lights of the city, as they rolled off.

"So, what gives?"

"It's wet. You're injured."

"Since when did you care whether I got rained on, or not?"

Kaiba looked at him askance. "Since now."

Jou let out a sardonic laugh. "I don't get you, Kaiba. Don't think I ever will."

"You come closer than most."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kaiba sighed, gazing straight ahead. "…it doesn't matter."

"It _does_ matter." Jou replied urgently, feeling like he might actually be getting somewhere. "It matters to _me_."

Just like that, Kaiba clammed up. Much as Jounouchi wanted to probe him, he figured he best not. His best chance at this conversation continuing organically was to shut up and give Kaiba the time he needed to ruminate. It was the closest either of them had ever come to talking candidly about their relationship, or lack thereof. So, exercising great restraint, Jou put a cork in it and just let him drive. To where, he wasn't exactly sure, but right now, there wasn't anywhere he'd rather be than in Seto Kaiba's car on a rainy Friday night.

After a time, Kaiba pulled into a parking spot that was popular with tourists, for the views over the city. Tonight, though, nobody was there. The driving rain had made it all but impossible to see clearly, lending a certain sense of anonymity.

Try as he might to relax, Jou's veins pulsed hotly under his collar. He felt suddenly clammy, as the realisation of being in what was actually a very private, very intimate predicament with Seto Kaiba dawned on him. It was just the two of them, up here. No teammates, no coaches, no teachers, no parents or siblings…no prying eyes of the unwanted kind. Maybe they could now finally be themselves.

"Looking at you…is like looking at myself in reverse." Kaiba finally said. "My strengths are your weaknesses, and vice versa."

"So? Why does that bother you so much?"

"Because, no matter how hard you try, you will never have what I have, just as I will never have what _you_ have. In that way…I guess we complement one another."

"What are you saying? I don't have anything _you_ don't have, Rich Boy."

"You do." He rebuked. "You just don't realise it."

"Name one thing."

"A father."

Jou rolled his eyes. "Come _on_."

Kaiba smiled and looked away. "It's…embarrassing for me to admit."

"Isn't that why we're here?" Jou deadpanned.

"I guess so."

"Then just say it, already!"

"Let's just say, we've both been through our hardships…the difference being that you can talk about yours. You're not afraid of being vulnerable…or of being hurt, it seems." Kaiba murmured, his eyes going glassy, as if he were being haunted by some unpleasant memory.

"I wouldn't call that a strength."

"Perhaps not a strength, so much as a virtue."

"Everyone's different, Kaiba. If it bothers you so much, why don't you just try to opening up to people? You know—being _human_? Instead of struttin' around like some impregnable, Holier-Than-Thou demi-God."

"I don't have that luxury." Kaiba mused. "When you become a public figure, you have to create a persona that keeps you in good stead. You spend so long living the lie that the line between real and fake starts to blur. 99 percent of the time I feel like I cannot be who I really am, and for that…I envy you."

Jounouchi was floored. "You're _jealous_ of me? _Me_?"

Kaiba shifted around in his seat to face him. "I would call it…begrudging respect."

Jou flushed. "Oh." he scratched the back of his neck in anxiety, wondering why he felt equal parts embarrassed and disappointed. "Well…forget about it."

"Why the disappointment?"

Jou didn't think he had it in him to be the first to admit his own feelings went further than 'begrudging respect'. Ultimately, he had been hoping it was more than that. That tonight might be the night they could finally be honest with each other. But maybe he had gotten it all wrong.

"I just don't understand why you're suddenly being like this. It's like you've had a total change of heart. Why?"

Kaiba levelled his gaze, hypnotizing him with his indigo eyes. "I think you know the answer to that, as well as I do."

Jou clenched his fists, wondering if this was _actually_ happening or not. How could he deny it any longer?

He had feelings for Kaiba.

Had done for a while, now.

And while he desperately wished this relentless attraction would kindly buzz off—and that Kaiba would maybe punch him back into reality to remind him how much he liked _girls_—he at once wanted to lose himself in those glacial irises and kiss those beautiful sculpted lips until he was breathless.

"I'm gonna be honest—" Jou looked squarely across at him. "I've never felt like this about a dude, before. It's weird."

"Then that would make two of us."

To say Jou was shocked by this admission would be putting it mildly. Not until the next Ice Age did he ever think his feelings would ever go reciprocated. "You mean you like me, too?"

Kaiba flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. "That's a somewhat sweeping way of describing it, wouldn't you say?" He glanced furtively at the blond. "_'Like'_. Such a mediocre adjective."

Jou huffed. "Then what would _you_ like to call it?"

Kaiba sighed in contemplation, relaxing back into his seat. "A curiosity, I suppose."

"Whatever." Jou muttered dismissively. "I don't even know why I like you. I mean…you're a jerk."

A tiny smirk tugged at Kaiba's lips. "I have my good points."

"Like?"

"I don't know; why don't _you_ tell _me_?"

Jou backed up an inch in his seat as Kaiba turned around to face him, leaning his wrist oh-so-casually atop the steering wheel in such a way that reminded Jou of a European cologne advertisement.

"Well…you're _hot_." He confessed, his palms becoming slick as he spoke his unbidden thoughts out loud. "No doubt you're smart, you're a talented duellist and you're great at sports, but…that's not really what counts, is it?"

"Come now, Jounouchi." Kaiba chortled. "We both know the deep and meaningful is irrelevant, in this context."

Jou swallowed back a knot of nervous tension, realising this was Kaiba's way of insinuating that their mutual attraction to each other was purely visceral. "Yeah, well, you don't exactly strike me as the 'deep and meaningful' type, anyway."

Kaiba swung his gaze back out the windshield. "Something we can both agree on, then."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Jounouchi wondered whether he was about to spontaneously combust or abruptly wake up from what was surely an absurd nightmare. Part of him was shell-shocked into silence, and yet a riot of questions were exploding in his mind. The last thing he wanted was for Kaiba to stonewall him, not when they had come this far.

"So…what do you want to do about this, then?"

"I'm not gay, Jounouchi, if that's what you're insinuating." Kaiba sharply informed him.

"I wouldn't care if you were."

"I'm _not_."

"Fine." Jou shrugged. "Neither am I, for what it's worth."

"Nobody can know of this." Kaiba warned, not even bothering to hide the malice in his tone. "Do you understand? _Nobody_."

"I can keep a secret, Kaiba." Jounouchi replied, somewhat relieved. He didn't exactly want to publicise this rather scandalous tryst, either. That he would never hear the end of it from Honda, was only the beginning.

"Good."

Feeling slightly braver, Jou finally dared to look at him. The pit of his stomach writhed like a vase full of pythons at how handsome the teen looked in the cool glow of the city lights. The warmth of the car heaters had also lent his usually-pallid complexion a juicy, apricot blush.

"So, I'll ask you again, what do you want out of this?"

For perhaps the first time ever, Kaiba looked uncertain—nervous, even. "I'm…not sure. I kept telling myself not to allow it to get this far."

Jou chuckled quietly, realising that Kaiba had become shy in the face of his innermost desires. "Tell me what you want," he coaxed. "and we'll go from there."

"I want to know what it's like…to kiss someone."

Jou was momentarily stunned, but then he realised he shouldn't be so surprised. If Kaiba had never been kissed, he obviously hadn't gone any further than that, either. "Not that I'm bragging, but dude, you've been missing out!"

Kaiba gave an awkward laugh. He should have known Jou would crack a corny joke at the most inappropriate of moments. "Maybe you can change that for me, then."

"Right _now_?"

"What, do I need to wine and dine you, first?"

"Pfft," Jou laughed. "I think we're done with the pleasantries, already."

"In that case…it's your move."

Now that the onus was on Jou the weight of responsibility fell upon him like a mantle; not only in the sense that he would be Kaiba's first kiss, but that he would be Kaiba's first _gay_ kiss—not to mention his _own_. All the while, a fierce throbbing had begun in his crotch, like embers that were being stoked back into flames. It was all he could do from lurching for the young man and stripping him from head to toe.

"A-alright," he agreed, clearing his throat, a little. "Uhm…you might want to take off your seatbelt."

Kaiba momentarily hesitated, then did so, offering Jou a heady whisper of his cologne. He smelt like a delectable fresh cocktail of citrus, cucumber and aquatic notes, like a crystal clear pool that made Jou want to dive right in. Kaiba then turned back to Jou, awaiting the next instruction.

"Close your eyes."

Seconds later, Jou leaned across and placed his hand against Kaiba's cheek, kissing him with all the tenderness he could muster. Kaiba, in return, hesitantly wrapped his hand around Jou's shoulder, leaning forward to reciprocate the gesture of utmost intimacy. All the while, the rain drummed down on the car roof, drowning out their adrenaline-fuelled heartbeats, and sighs that became more wanton.

Their kissing soon became like a game of tug-o-war, as they see-sawed between pulling back and plunging in. Though Jou would always long for the feel and scent of a woman's body, this was unlike any other. There was something aggressively erotic about being pitted against a man of equal valour and passion.

The moment of intimacy finally subsided, leaving Jou and Kaiba breathless and trembling in each other's wake. The make-out session felt at once like it had gone on for hours, but passed as quickly as mere seconds. Undeniably, they were both left wanting more.

"So?" Jou queried, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead and collapsing back into his seat. "How'd I do?"

"…It exceeded my expectations."

Nothing more could, or even _needed_, to be said. Kaiba had got what he had come for, and Jounouchi had unwittingly been a part of his plan. More than just a mere gesture of kindness in giving him a ride, Jou realised this had been his intention all along. Although, he hadn't exactly fallen victim to Kaiba's seduction; rather, _he_ had somehow been duped into becoming the seducer. Jou had always been an "act now, think later" kind of guy, however, so he wasn't exactly fazed whether or not he had walked right into Kaiba's trap. His mind had already jumped ahead to what happened next, anyway, and he was sure Kaiba must be contemplating a similar train of thought.

The ride back to the city was mostly silent, the humming of the car punctuated only by the ambient synthwave music vibrating through the speakers. Kaiba pulled up outside Jounouchi's apartment block, some thirty minutes later. As desperately as he wanted to, he didn't dare ask what or if or _when_ there might be a "next time"…because there might not be one. The thought filled Jou with bitter disappointment.

"Well, guess I'll see ya tomorrow." Jou tried to sound casual, making to open the car door.

"Do you want this?" Kaiba asked. "Because if you do…just know that I never lose."

"I want it," Jou answered, never feeling more sure. "But this isn't a competition, Kaiba."

He looked slighted. "What is it, then?"

Jou smiled. "For once, we're on an even playing field. So, why don't we just take the pressure off ourselves and try to enjoy it?"

Kaiba contemplated this. After some moments of though, he anticlimactically replied, "Very well. Goodnight."

Jou laughed at the absurdity of it all and closed the car door. "'Night."

* * *

If anything changed over the following couple of weeks, it was subtle enough that even Jounouchi's friends hadn't picked up on it. Yuugi was the first to suspect that something was afoot when he noticed that Kaiba and Jounouchi hadn't been involved in any sort of physical altercations of late, and Ryou remarked that Kaiba had seemed slightly less cheerless than usual in his calculus class, even going so far as cracking a dry joke now and then. Anzu purported that Jounouchi also seemed to be mildly more _annoying_ than usual. Still, Kaiba and Jou maintained their usual distance on school grounds, except when called for such as in class or club training.

It was Thursday evening, and Kaiba had just stepped out of the showers after basketball training. Arriving back at his locker, he went at first rather wan when he noticed Jounouchi taking his clothes off, and then flashed red hot. He had stayed behind on the court to discuss something with his coach, thus had come in later than his other teammates. Oddly enough, despite his deepening crush on the blonde boy, Kaiba had never gone out of his way to ogle him in the changing rooms, as he was so overtly doing now.

Jou momentarily turned around, naked as a jaybird about to head for the showers, when he was abruptly met by Kaiba's awkward staring. Not about to make a scene in front of his teammates, Jou threw his towel confidently over his shoulder and muttered, "What? Never seen a dick before?" before stalking off.

Jou grinned widely as he passed him, to the sound of snickering and chortling from their teammates.

"None as small as _that_." Kaiba scathingly remarked, evoking more sniggers and ribald comments.

"Oh yeah? You make a habit of measuring dicks then, pretty boy?"

"Of course not, but I know a micro-penis when I see one."

"_Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"_

"Your ass must be jealous of your mouth from the amount of shit that comes out of it, Kaiba."

Jou knew he would never win in a game of wits against Kaiba, and he was really only engaging in the banter for the sheer entertainment of it. His teammates, however, were all but waiting for the punch-up to begin. There was a sneaky sort of satisfaction in knowing something that they didn't, though, and Kaiba's telling smirk did not go unnoticed by Jounouchi.

Jou came back to an empty locker room and a note slipped into his gym bag.

_Meet me in the car park. _

It wasn't the first time Jounouchi and Kaiba had met under the guise of cloak-and-dagger. In fact, there had been several clandestine make-out sessions after dark in the back of Kaiba's black Mercedes, always after training and never for longer than fifteen or twenty minutes. Kaiba's tight schedule between school and work never made for such allowances, much to Jou's disappointment. The secrecy and the time restraint only served as more of a thrill, however, and Jou was growing hard already at the prospect of what depraved pleasures awaited him that evening.

Jou slid into the car, ensuring nobody was around to see, before doing so. He was immediately groped by Kaiba, his head slamming back against the headrest as they engaged in an erotic kissing frenzy, moaning, clutching, fondling and biting.

"Guess you dig my micro-penis after all, huh?" Jou grinned slyly, once they'd calmed down and caught their breath.

"I've got the night off." Kaiba ignored him. "Let's go back to my place."

Jou was in no mind to refuse, however monumental this latest development may have been. He was so horny he felt like he might rip seam from seam, and although his trysts with Kaiba hadn't yet gone beyond second base, he wholeheartedly wanted to take it to the next level—and it seemed Kaiba did, too.

Jou was in awe the moment he stepped through the oak-and-glass front doors of the marvellous Kaiba Estate mansion. Only a privileged few had ever seen inside its four walls, and now that Jou could count himself among them, he felt a fraction overwhelmed.

Kaiba dumped his bag and hung up his school blazer on the coat rack, motioning for Jounouchi to do the same, before making his way through to a closed-off living area. He slid the doors open and allowed Jounouchi through ahead of him. Inside, Jou was met by a luxurious space bedecked with plush velveteen sofas and armchairs, heavily embroidered silk brocade curtains and carpet so thick it felt like well-manicured grass, under his feet. The room was complemented by a glass-topped gilt coffee table, tasteful ornaments and art from both east and western influences. Finally, two Tiffany-style floor lamps were placed in opposing corners, lending a soft amber glow that made the entire room sing.

"It's beautiful, I know." Kaiba spoke the words for him.

Jou roamed the room with his eyes, marvelling at how every object seemed to have been placed just-so. "Was all this…your father's?"

"Was." Kaiba emphasised, sliding the doors shut behind him. "It was his smoking room. I transformed it into my own private parlour."

"Private, huh?" Jou sidled up to him, sliding his hands around Kaiba's hips. "Does that mean…?"

"You can rest assured we won't be disturbed, tonight."

Jou's blood surged as Kaiba bent down to kiss him. They stood, kissing passionately, until their bodies eventually guided them toward the sofa of their own volition. Kaiba climbed on top of Jounouchi, clothing cast aside piece by piece, and the two became an entanglement of muscled limbs, needy hands and swollen lips, sighs of pleasure issuing from hoarse throats.

Jou was as hard as a cast iron pipe, a sinful veil of lust clouding his voice of reason—or rather, silencing it completely—as Kaiba kissed his bare chest, sweeping his palms over the broad, mostly hairless expanse. Jounouchi mirrored his movements, ridding Kaiba of his shirt, gazing at the glory that was his broad, toned chest. Though he had obviously seen Kaiba nude from the waist up many times before during swim training, being up close and personal in an entirely new and intimate light filled Jou with a pleasant, tingling warmth, and an eagerness to see more.

Kaiba slid down and unbuckled Jou's pants, pulling them down from his hips. Jou fluttered a pleasured sigh as his penis was released from its restraints, standing erect against his abdomen. Jounouchi grinned at the incredulous look that overcame his lover, at seeing his cock for the first time.

Kaiba wasted no time in reaching for it, slowly pumping it up and down, and then took it in his mouth. Jou shuddered and moaned at the intense pleasure, Kaiba's warm wet mouth working him as if he'd done it a thousand times.

"_Kami_, Kaiba…_ungh_…" Jou rasped out haggardly, fisting handfuls of the plush sofa beneath him.

Kaiba paused to smirk up at him. "If you're squealing now…just wait 'til I'm done with you."

Jounouchi dropped his head back, losing himself in the delirium as Kaiba plunged onto his cock again, licking, sucking and teasing him into oblivion. It wasn't until Jou found himself starting to edge that he pulled himself back.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to come."

"We can always go another round." Kaiba muttered, appearing mildly disappointed.

"Uhm…you know I haven't done this before, right? With a guy, I mean." Jou panted. "Have you?"

Kaiba shook his head, somewhat bashfully. "Do you want to?"

Jou sat up and stroked the side of the teen's flushed face. "'Course I do. I just think we should take it slow, you know? What's the hurry?"

Kaiba looked as though he was ready to argue that point, but decided against it. "As you wish."

As Jou later discovered, it would be one of the best decisions he made with regard to his relationship with the blue eyed teen. Sex had been a fairly physical thing for Jounouchi in past experiences, but with Kaiba, the level of intimacy was heightened. There was more at stake for both of them if they were to be found out, and thus, a more solid bond of trust was required. Trusting each other was as integral to their relationship for Jounouchi as much as it was for Kaiba, and they also developed a deeper respect for one another as a result of it.

"_Ngh…Jounouchi-kun…I can't…oh God…!"_

After giving Jounouchi one of the most cataclysmic blowjobs of his life, Kaiba was now on the receiving end, edging further and further toward the precipice. Jou sucked and jerked simultaneously, spurred on by the sensation of Kaiba's cock growing more rigid, his breathing more laboured, until he finally let rip a primeval holler, coming into Jou's mouth with frantic gusto. Jou panicked for a flummoxed moment, wondering what he should do with the contents, but ultimately decided swallowing it would be the best course of action.

"Perhaps not the _best_ White Russian I've ever tasted," Jou grinned, evoking a mildly offended scowl from Kaiba. "But, not bad."

"Hn, way to ruin a moment."

"Aw come on, I'm just teasing ya, Rich Boy." Jou laughed jovially, crawling back up to lay next to him.

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"As soon as you stop calling me _make inu_, maybe."

"Hmm."

Indeed, as Kaiba had insinuated, they were not to be disturbed that evening, nor any of the many other evenings that followed. Jounouchi was always thrilled to be invited to Kaiba's home—more often than not for a night of debauchery in Gozaburo Kaiba's old smoking room. As with most good things, however, their romance petered out as the school year drew to a close. Jounouchi knew, to some extent, that what they had could never develop into anything serious. They were still so young, and their relationship had been purely for experimentational purposes. But still, Jou couldn't say it didn't hurt when Kaiba started to become distant and began to ignore his messages. At that point, he knew they'd called time.

What was funny to Jounouchi, was that nobody ever knew. Not Mokuba, Yuugi, Honda, or anyone. Jou never breathed a word of his affair with Kaiba to anyone. It was the longest secret he had ever kept, and intended on keeping, perhaps until his dying day.

\- . - . - . – (end flashback)

Jounouchi shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, slightly dismayed by his blazing erection. His first thought was that he was glad he was currently home alone. Living with a small female child, Jou always took necessary care to ensure that she was never exposed to anything that might inadvertently scare her, especially now that her mother was gone. When Noriko was alive, she would take baths with Honoka all the time, but since they had the same "parts", she wasn't in the least bit fazed by it. Jounouchi laughed at a recent memory of Honoka walking in on him, in the shower. She had screamed alarmingly and asked him, "_what is that thing between your legs, Daddy!?_". Jou, of course, was mortified at having to have "the talk" with his eight year old daughter. Just because she now knew what a penis was, however, didn't mean he wished for a reoccurrence of that particular episode.

It was nearing on to seven o'clock. Jou drummed his fingers against his thigh and glanced at his cell phone, wondering if he should call Kaiba. Surely Hona and Sora had tired themselves out, by now, and Kaiba would undoubtedly have work he wanted to get on with, tonight. _I'll give him ten more minutes…_

Sure enough, just as Jou was getting absorbed into an episode of _Ninja Warrior_ over a bowl of ramen, a rap on the door startled him to his feet.

"I was wondering where you'd got to," Jounouchi muttered, as Kaiba stood at his front door with Honoka on his hip, asleep against his shoulder. Her schoolbag dangled from his other hand.

"Daddy…?"

"Hey, sweetie. You're home, now. Come 'ere." Jou took her from him and headed to her bedroom, to get her into her pyjamas.

"She's good, you know." Kaiba said, as Jou returned to the living room. "At tennis. I'd like to offer her private lessons."

Jou scratched the back of his head. "I don't know about that, Kaiba. I mean, she'd love it but…"

"Think about it." Kaiba slid his hands into his coat pockets and made for the door.

"What about…?" Jou searched Kaiba's broad back with his caramel eyes, remembering what he had said earlier that day. _"I can't have anyone seeing you leave—or coming back, for that matter…"_

"Lessons would take place at Sora's tennis club," Kaiba replied, turning back to face him. "not at home."

"Right." Jou felt his stomach drop in disappointment. The feeling was all too familiar.

"Katsuya…"

Jou was startled. It had been a long time since anyone—apart from his sister—had called him that.

"…it's been good seeing you again." Kaiba nodded, more to himself than to anyone else, as if affirming how he felt inside. "I often wondered how you were doing, over the years."

"Yeah…" Jou looked down at Kaiba's shiny, polished black shoes. "well, now you know."

Kaiba studied him for a long moment, before reaching up to stroke the side of his face, his jaw, his lips. Kaiba's mouth softened. "Still so soft."

"Don't." Jou tossed his head, batting his hand away. "It's been fifteen years, already."

"Did you ever stop loving me?"

Jou gave him a resigned look. "Are we really having this conversation?"

"I just want to know if there's anything left…or if I destroyed what we had, irreparably."

"You didn't destroy anything." Jou conceded. "What we had was…nice, at the time. But to answer your question…no, I didn't."

They stared at each other in something of an uncomfortable silence.

Kaiba lurched forward and kissed him, a fragment of a second before Jou did exactly that—a thoughtless, impulsive moment. They kissed without restraint—Kaiba swivelling him against the doorframe—seizing each other's mouths as though they had proprietorship of one another. Pulling back for air, Jounouchi looked around wildly to ensure his daughter wasn't standing in the corridor. She wasn't.

Kaiba pulled his face back toward him, hungry for his mouth. Jou allowed him another tasting, before putting a stop to him.

"Come on…this is a bad idea, and you know it." Jou breathed, grasping onto his coat lapels.

Kaiba leant his forehead against Jou's, panting raggedly. "_Carpe diem_," he closed his lips over Jou's once again.

A flood of memories came back to Jounouchi again—the smell, the taste, the feeling, the sounds of Kaiba's soft, throaty groans—barely anything had changed in all those years, except for perhaps the fact that they had both gained a lot more experience. A pleasant warmth began to creep into his groin again, stoking the flames of desire. Fighting against it was futile, he realised, but he couldn't do this again. Not here, in this place where his wife had lived—and died. Not here, where his daughter was conceived; the only home she had ever known. He couldn't defile such a sacrosanct place, dishonouring Noriko's memory.

"I can't. Not here."

"Then where?"

Jou shook his head. "Nowhere, Kaiba. You have to go."

Kaiba stared him down, then straightened up as if coming to his senses. He glanced into the corners of the corridor ceiling—checking for cameras, no doubt—before resting his gaze back on Jou. "You're right, I apologise. This was a mistake."

He turned to go, and Jou couldn't help but feel crushed. "No it wasn't," he called after him. "just bad timing."

Kaiba's eyes held a look of infernal frustration, but Jou could see the sadness lingering beneath. "You know, I never used to believe in all that 'destiny' crap," he said. "but maybe there _is_ something to it, after all."

* * *

**Author's note:** Thank you for reading. Part Two may be a while off, as I haven't got anymore written yet...xD; -flees-


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